New Blood
by Hyena Cub
Summary: The year is 2093. A new group of Ronin must asnwer the threat of the Dynasty...but the Dynasty has recruited as well. Note: I have disregarded the last few episodes in writing this fanfic, and stricken Kayura from the historyshe didn't fit.
1. Dark Stirrings

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

----

DISCLAIMER

It's actually kinda sad that I need this, but I figured I would cover my tail end.

None of this stuff is mine! Any stories I write of copyrighted characters are fanfiction. I hold no claims to them, they are the properties of those who hold the copyrights and trademarks, and whatnot. And I am neither making nor trying to make any money or earnings of any kind from my stories. They are just for my enjoyment and the enjoyment for those who may happen to read them.

I (and I think most fanfiction artists) write fanfiction because they love the genre about which they write, and want to create their own stories with the characters that have become old friends to them. They like to visit the world more often and go to more places than they can reading the books or watching the show or movie. That's why I write them. Because I like them.

Anyway.

Again, I claim none of it as my own except those characters that I created that are not a part of the original genre. My custom ThunderCats characters are mine and no one else's. My custom Legend of Zelda characters are mine...and etc. etc.. Anyone that wants to use my original characters must gain my permission.

Anyone who wants to link to or post my stories on their pages are quite welcome, so long as they credit me and link to my story or main page.

**CHAPTER 1: Dark Stirrings**

The land was bleak and featureless, the sky dark and hazy. The pale sun gave plenty of warmth, but no light; one could see the planets orbiting it at its zenith, and watch the stars rise and set. Mountains rose on the horizon, as stark and blank as the lowlands, and gave little relief to the austere landscape.

Beyond the mountains lay a sprawling ruins, crumbling walls and stones that had once been a magnificent palace—a titanic pagoda, dark and threatening, a testimony to its lord. Surrounding the main ruins were the remains of soldiers; barracks and various other functional buildings, all as deserted as the main fortress.

No one stirred.

Hundreds of miles away, surrounded by sheer cliffs and angular mountains, a wide valley lay. Sheltered from storms and prying eyes, a new building rose, a near carbon copy of the ruins that lay so far away. Within an inner chamber, a spectral figure rested.

No one knew his right name, nor where he had come from. No one even knew whether or not he had once been human. All knew him as Arago—or Talpa, and before the final defeat, his name had once caused fear by its very mention.

It would be so once again.

Talpa decided that he would have to bide his time, waiting until his current enemies were gone from the earth, letting the outside world believe he had been defeated forever. It rankled his pride, but it was a necessary evil; the Ronin Warriors were too big a thorn to remove. He had taken his remaining forces and his warlords, and retreated to this desolate valley. Nether Spirits and the remaining spirit-robotic soldiers had begun rebuilding Talpa's palace, taking only a few short years to do so. Talpa recovered from his battles, grateful that his defeat had not robbed him of the physical body he had been able to create. He was weak, yes, but not crippled. And so he planned.

The ghostly figure stared from his window, watching his three most loyal fighters training. He needed to make some changes in their training, and in how they worked together. They could make a formidable team...when they worked together. But the underlying enmity, the back-stabbing and constant bickering, that was a grave weakness. Talpa knew that the fault was partly his, though he'd never admit it. He knew that his disdain of them, his outward contempt, and sometimes deliberate attempts to set them to competing for his favor all contributed. He would have to make a minor change. He could never change how he regarded his underlings, or they would never fear him...never crave his approval. But he would no longer set them against each other. He would set a rigid ranking system that they would abide by.

What caused this tremendous decision were the Ronin Warriors themselves. Talpa knew something of their secrets, how they could speak with one another through their minds alone, how they worked as cogs in a well-made machine. He saw how much more powerful they were as a group, a group who trusted one another enough to share their inner secrets, who cared for one another enough that each was willing to give his life to save another's. He did not fool himself into thinking that his warlords would grow to view one another as brothers any time soon...but certainly their hatred could be blunted.

At first, he did nothing except to set them to their training sessions, letting them get out their aggressions through their sparring. But then he gathered them in his receiving chamber and said this:

"Your enmity towards one another will cease. Now." All three of them blinked and glanced quickly at the others before turning their gazes back onto Talpa. "Kale, you will lead."

He had predicted the reaction to this; Kale smiled, satisfied, and knelt, with respectful thanks. Dais's eyes narrowed in displeasure, but he was not so blunt as Sekhmet, whose expression was that of fury. "Him, Master! He will lead u--"

Talpa did not allow him to finish; he said nothing, only cast out his hand, enfolding Sekhmet with a dark web of energy. He let out a screech of pain and vanished. Dais's narrowed eyes widened in surprise, and he turned cautiously back towards Dais. Kale, still kneeling, managed to control his own reaction. They were used to Talpa's methods of control and punishment, but he had never been quite so swift or unforgiving about it.

Talpa looked to Dais, who resisted the urge to take a step back. "Do you have an objection to my decision, Dais?"

Dais shook his head, bowing briefly, as he replied. "No, master," he said quietly. "None."

Talpa nodded his head, sitting back in his throne. "Rise, Kale. Listen to me. You will learn to work together, and you will learn now. I will tell Sekhmet this same thing; anyone protesting my orders will get the same treatment Sekhmet has gotten. I intend to add to your ranks in time, and build a larger force to fight—you three will lead over them, but if you insist on bickering among yourself, you are not fit to lead."

"Yes, Master," Dais and Kale murmured in unison, standing side by side, both looking slightly uneasy.

"You may leave." They did, looking a little stunned, and Talpa watched them until they were out the door. He smiled a little—they'd either learn, or they'd be replaced.

He let Sekhmet out of the dungeon a few hours later, and received his exhausted apology—enduring the repeated attacks of the Nether spirits was not exactly a pleasant ordeal, and it was the best form of discipline Talpa had at his disposal. The spirits not only inflicted pain, but poured their Dark energy into their victims. In the case of Talpa's warlords, he made their desire to do evil, their bond to the Nether Realm stronger. Sekhmet did not openly protest his decisions again.

Over the next few weeks, Talpa became more ruthless than ever in his discipline, tolerating no protests or dissent, and he began to see a change. His warlords cared nothing for him, he was sure of it; they only desired his favor, and the power he could give them. However he made it clear that any attempts to increase their station on their own, scorning Talpa's own decisions of who was fit to lead, would earn them disgrace and chastisement.

After a few sessions in Talpa's dungeons, any complaints ceased completely, and any arguing among the warlords was done out of Talpa's range of hearing. Talpa insisted they continue to train, keeping themselves and their abilities at peak form. He was quick to criticize, very slow to praise, and expected their best at all times. Their efforts to perform to Talpa's standards gave them a common goal, common ground, and they began to work as a unit—Talpa could see it in how they executed their attacks, and how they pulled their punches when they sparred instead of trying to hurt one another. He saw Sekhmet grin when Dais hit a dozen targets within seconds with his scythes, noticed how Kale began to act more as a commander than a usurper, using encouragement and reprimands to get the best out of the other two.

Talpa was inordinately pleased—he had unified his warlords, at the same time solidifying their fear and awe of him..

The years passed, until nearly a decade had gone by. Endlessly fueled by Dark energy, Talpa had begun building up his mechanical armies once more, even creating a group of soldiers whose sole purpose was to create the fighters. Freed of this task, Talpa focused his energies into watching the outside world, watching the passing of the Ronin, and the plans and plots of the mortals. He oversaw his warlords' training and the rebuilding of his Dynasty.

Finally the time came. It was time to increase the warlords' ranks; those who remained, Sekhmet, Dais, and Kale, were powerful warriors, their numbers were too small. Even with the hordes of mechanical soldiers, even with the powers he and his warlords possessed, they were not enough for Talpa's goals. He would need to bring more here...train them...foster their loyalty.

Dais, Sekhmet, and Kale had solidified into a single force, beginning to learn the lesson that the Ronin already knew. The warlords were human, and though their souls were twisted, they were still there—they realized that brotherhood and camaraderie were not weaknesses, but strengths, so long as it was directed in the right way. They were ready for more responsibility.

For the first time in more than ten years, the Dynasty went forth into the mortal realm, but they did not travel there to attack; they were there to recruit.

---

In the perpetual motion machine that was Tokyo, lived a woman named Jin Tanaka, a woman both well-respected and infamous. She owned one of the biggest companies in Japan, and was well-known for her intelligence and business skills. That was her "outside face", the face she presented to the public and her employees.

However she had another face, her infamous one. This face had no name, in fact no one knew that both faces belonged to the same woman. Her notoriety came from the Yakuza, Japanese organized crime. Her brains and skill were far more useful in her adopted clan, where her duties were comprised mostly of smuggling and "taking care" of those her clan deigned threats to the organization. She was known throughout the Yakuza for her ruthlessness and sadistic streak. There were not many women in the Yakuza, much less women who were so well-revered, but Jin Tanaka was no ordinary woman.

The year was 2013, in the spring. Jin Tanaka's dreams had been strange of late, filled with frightening landscapes and ancient battles. A demonic figure, one with red eyes and antiquated armor, dominated these dreams, but Jin Tanaka did not fear him. She knew, somehow, that these dreams were more than mere visions. They were real, somehow, and she knew she would someday meet the demon who haunted them.

So when the skies suddenly clouded over the city as she stood outside her home, when the sky turned an ominous green, she was not surprised; it was just like her dreams. When three men in armor approached her, she knew they had been sent by the demon figure, and when they spoke to her, telling her of the power she could have...she was ready with an answer.

From his palace in the Nether Realm, Talpa watched, pleased. She would accept, he had already known that. It had taken quite a while to find someone in Japan who would be worthy to serve Talpa, but his warlords had tracked her down, and now...

She would be his new Warlord of Cruelty. The Loyalty armor was gone, taken when Anubis defected, but Talpa had always known he would have to create new armor, armor that would fit his new warlords.

Talpa met the woman in his audience chamber, sitting in the throne he had constructed. His warlords escorted her in, Dais and Sekhmet hanging back, and Kale approaching at the woman's side. Kale introduced Talpa to the woman, then said, "This is Jin Tanaka, Master."

The woman regarded him for a moment, and then bent in a respectful bow. Talpa nodded his head briefly in return. "Welcome, Jin Tanaka" he said, his voice courteous and persuasive.

Jin Tanaka seemed to have no problem understanding his archaic speech, and bowed once more, briefly. "Thank you, Talpa-san," she replied.

Customs were not being followed in an exact manner, but Talpa did not care; she showed respect, and his warlords had obviously told her of him. He looked up briefly to nod his acknowledgement to them, then turned back to the woman. "I assume my warlords have told you who I am?"

"Yes," said Tanaka. "They have told me of your leadership here, and some of your goals. Your manner of discipline, and your expectations." She did not mention they'd said they were recruiting or that she was interested; for one it would be impolite, and for another, it was far too obvious. She wouldn't be here if she wasn't interested.

"I have heard much of you," said Talpa, and the woman bowed in appreciative acknowledgement. "I seek those who will join my cause and swear allegiance to me." He smiled, a ghastly sight, but the woman did not flinch. "You need not decide now. I invite you to stay in my palace for a few days, during which I will tell you of what I require from my warlords, and you may make your decision then. If you decline, you will be returned to your home." Not entirely true. He may or may not decide to let her go, but not without wiping her memory of this place first.

Jin did not need the extra days to decide, but she graciously accepted the invitation anyway. Perhaps it would be wise, after all, to find out as much as she could. When Talpa told her that Kale would show her to a room she could use, she bowed and thanked him several times.

Talpa watched her leave with Kale, and turned to Dais and Sekhmet, allowing himself another ghoulish grin. "Well done," he murmured. "The more we find like her, the more powerful we will be."

"Thank you, Master," said Sekhmet, clenching his fist and narrowing his eyes in anticipation. "There's nothing to stop us this time, Master. Nothing."

"We will find others," said Dais confidently.

"Do not limit yourself to Japan," said Talpa. "Find those who will best serve my purposes. There are several powers in the world, and if I were to take control of them all...well, that is for the future. For now...we prepare." There was silence for several moments, before Talpa dismissed Dais and Sekhmet. Talpa himself retired to his chambers.

As expected, Jin Tanaka joined their ranks three days later, and knelt before him to swear her allegiance, becoming his warlord of Cruelty. Talpa gave her a set of non-mystical, working armor and began her battle training; he would watch her fighting style and get to know her mind, and craft a set of armor that would truly suit her.

Thus began his new empire.

---

In 2016, near the southernmost coast of China, a twenty-three year old man named Tai Shuang was recruited into Talpa's ranks, becoming the Warlord of Destruction, true to his personality. In 2017, Cade Taylor came from America, a thirteen year old boy with genius intelligence, the Warlord of Despair. Heath Jenkins, the eldest of the new group at thirty, was found in England in 2021, Warlord of Fear.

Several years passed after finding Heath Jenkins. Talpa did not want to acquire his warlords so quickly; he wanted them to have time to grow accustomed to one another, and to begin to form the bonds that Kale, Sekhmet, and Dais had learned to form. Those three had known one another for hundreds of years...but these three were practically infants. They would need far more time to come together than ten years. He also wanted time for them to get a taste of his discipline and punishment.

Thus far, Talpa was pleased. His new warlords had been granted their immortality, choosing not to age beyond their current years, and Talpa was astonished at how quickly they adjusted. This was especially so for Cade and Heath; not only did they now live in an entirely separate dimension, but within a completely different culture. The language barrier was no great difficulty; Talpa had the power to make himself and his warlords understood, and his new recruits were learning Japanese quite well.

Jin Tanaka was a fierce warrior. She had come to Talpa with plenty of martial arts skills, and had learned to fight with katana and throwing stars quite quickly. She was grim and humorless, but she both showed and was worthy of respect. She was courteous, unless one of the others offended her, then she let her feelings be known with her sharp tongue, and sometimes her sharp sword, within the bounds that Talpa allowed.

Tai Shuang was a wild fighter, a man who seemed half-feral even in his physical appearance. When he fought, he caused great damage, as much as possible. He cared little for the pain of his victims, but if he could break something—or someone--he was happy. His favorite weapon came from his native China: a heavy weight on the end of a long chain. It could be used either as a morningstar, or as a sort of bolas. He was quite skilled with the weapon from the beginning. As violent as he was, Talpa feared he would not get along well with his fighting mates, but he did surprisingly well. The others seemed fairly fond of him, almost as one might feel towards a pet. Surprisingly, Shuang did not seem to mind, preferring his feral ways to more civilized behavior. Sometimes his apparent lack of humanity impressed even Sekhmet, whose own humanity was less that the others'.

Heath Jenkins was the weakest fighter, and the only one thus far with no battle training at all. He was being trained by Kale, mostly, who was the best teacher among Talpa's higher warlords. They'd not yet found a weapon that suited Heath, but Talpa knew they would, eventually. What Heath was good at was intimidation; he was slim, though very tall, and when he allowed rage to show on his face, he was frightening. Even without armor, he seemed to gather energy from such fear. He had the best control of his own emotions, beyond Jin Tanaka, and did not speak often.

Cade Taylor was the one Talpa understood the least. He did not understand children well, and Cade was quite young; at first Talpa had been perplexed and a little angry that his warlords had brought back a boy who would never grow into adulthood, until the young teenager had displayed his great intelligence. Cade had not only shown the proper Japanese protocols when meeting Talpa, he had used the _ancient_ protocols. He knew both the current and ancient forms of Japanese, as well as a dozen other languages. There were very few questions of knowledge that the boy could not answer, and no logic problem cast before him had gone unsolved. When Cade finally demonstrated his skill with a crossbow, Talpa's faith in his warlords had been restored.

The foreigners had been rude at first—inadvertently sometimes, quite deliberately others—but quickly learned otherwise after meeting the Nether Spirits. Shuang seemed to be the most difficult to tame into respect—he had the heart of a savage and did not conform easily. But even a beast could be taught, Talpa thought.

They were all so very different. Sometimes it seemed as if they would never be a cohesive team. Jin's grim mask would confound the others, or Cade's immaturity would annoy someone (usually Dais or Heath). Shuang had even less patience than Talpa did, and Heath's ego was not always under his control. Cade and Shuang fought constantly. At first Talpa had been extremely displeased, before Kale pointed out that the fighting was not detrimental to the team; they enjoyed fighting, much as two brothers. Talpa observed the pair for several days, and when he had to discipline Shuang for standing up to him on Cade's behalf, his fears about their fighting were assuaged.

"They will be a team, Master" said Kale once when reporting to Talpa. "It will take them time and discipline, as with us, but they improve with every week that passes."

"I hope so," said Talpa in a low voice, giving Kale a pointed look. "For your sake."

"They will, Master. I promise."

"Very well. Leave, then." In truth, Talpa was happy with the new warlords' progress, and glancing once outside his window to his growing realm, Talpa retired to his chambers.

---

Weeks, and then months passed. A year went by since Heath Jenkins had been recruited, and there were far less incidences of discord among the lesser warlords. They began to fall more easily into their role beneath their leaders, and learned to fight as a unit. Cade and Shuang had surprisingly become close, like brothers, and could often be seen sparring, or even just talking, or enjoying the beauty of the lands Talpa had surrounded himself with. Jin Tanaka impressed the others with her skill and ruthlessness, and it was clear she had the others' respect, even if they didn't much like her; even the elder warlords respected her abilities.

Their skill in their weaponry, from hours of practice each day, were perfected. There was rarely a time when Jin would miss her target with her shurikens, and the katana were deadly in her hands. Shuang's strength and skill grew, so that when he used his weighted chain, he hardly seemed to move, he was so fast.

Heath Jenkins was the odd one out for the longest time. His unemotional demeanor made it difficult to understand him, even for Talpa, and he had very slow in learning battle. Never managing to perfect a melee weapon, not in all the long weeks of training, the Englishman had discovered some skill, with a blowgun.

Sekhmet had come up with the idea, realizing that mainstream weapons didn't fit Heath, and wanted to try him on stranger weapons. When he found that Heath was able to use a blowgun almost without any instruction, he was pleased; with Heath's penchence for causing fear, and Sekhmet's knowledge of poisons, they could turn Heath's skill into a powerful weapon. Poisoned darts could get into small chinks in armor, could make the wearer do anything from die to attack his own friends. Heath could not have been more pleased, and often went to Sekhmet, wanting to help him with his poisons and drugs; the two began to form a surprising friendship.

Cade had no one to train him in weaponry, as Talpa's people had little knowledge of how to use a crossbow or anything like it, but training was not really needed. He practiced every day, and it was not long before he could hit anything that moved. His mistakes were fewer and farther between (though sometimes catastrophic when they occurred, such as missing his target and hitting Shuang in the backside instead...that had been a fight not easily forgotten!)

By this time Talpa had crafted their armors and imbued them with power, but he had not defined those powers; he had given the armors to the new warlords and told them that they must find what they were capable of--another lesson he had taken from the Ancient. The armor, in part, molded itself to its wearer. To Heath it gave the power of causing fear, to Cade the power of grief and despair, a powerful morale destroyer. Jin's armor was the most powerful of the new warlords; by crossing her katana, she could unleash a devastating wave of explosive energy that felt like burning shrapnel; it did no actual damage, but could incapacitate someone with pain if used right. Each armor molded well to its owner, taking advantage of their natural capabilities.

Soon, they would be ready to add to the ranks once more.

Here are the new warlords:

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	2. Epic Task

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 2: Epic Task**

There are different kinda of immortality. Some, like Talpa and his warlords, take the impure way and preserve their mortal bodies until they are taken down in battle. Others live on through their deeds and contributions to the world. Yet others live forever in spirit, guiding those who remain.

Kaos was such a being; his spirit lived on and existed on a separate plane of reality, very like the Nether Realm in this way. But that's where the similarities ended. The realm of spirits, where one's ancestors went when they died, was a realm of wisdom, a realm of good. Kaos, the Ancient, was aware of all the went on, in the mortal realm and beyond. He had guided the Ronin Warriors through the centuries, in all of their forms. And once again, he would have to seek them out.

Not now. Not yet. But there would come a time when they were needed, and they would need to be armed and armored.

Kaos knew the location of the original Ronin Warrior armors, but there would need to be more than five Ronin, now. Talpa was massing his own forces, and they were far greater than ever before. If only Kaos could influence the Nether Realm instead of merely watching...

But he could not, and there was no use on dwelling what could not be. He would need some help; he needed someone in the mortal realm who had the ability to craft such armor, and one who would recognize the dreams through which the Ancient had to communicate. He knew of one person, a man from Anubis's family, who could help them.

Anubis had once been a warlord in Talpa's service. He, alone among the others, had realized he walked the wrong path, and that he could be a true warrior for good, instead of a mere servant of evil. He shook off Talpa's influence, and began to train under the Ancient.

Kaos sought out Anubis in the spiritual realm, preferring that he speak with his descendant, rather than Kaos. As family, Anubis had a far greater tie to him, and would be able to better communicate.

"The threat of Talpa rises again," said Kaos wearily once he found Anubis.

"I know," said Anubis quietly. "I've seen it, too."

"It is time for the Ronin to rise again--but there must be more than five—Talpa has recruited others." Anubis raised a brow in surprise, but said nothing, only listened. "Yasuo Toshitada, a part of your family clan, has the knowledge and power to help us. We must create new armor."

Anubis's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment he said nothing, thinking on the significance of Kaos's words. "Family of mine?" he finally said. "I didn't know...any of my family were mystics."

Kaos just looked at Anubis for a moment, and smiled. "My friend...you are a mystic." Anubis blinked. "How else could you have learned the things I had to teach? How else could you have helped the Ronin, even after your death? You are not of my clan, Shuten, but you have your own power." The old man smiled at the look of self-disgust that crossed Anubis's face on not having seen the obvious, and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Sometimes things are most difficult to see when they're out in the open."

"That must be it," Anubis grumbled, and then laughed, shaking his head ruefully. "How can I help?"

"You must contact him. It will be far easier for you, and he will accept your contact far better than he will accept mine. You must tell him it is time to build the armors. He is both a mystic and a scholar; he will know what you mean."

"I see," said Anubis, suddenly understanding. "He has studied the legends...like Mia Koda did. But he has the power to get involved, rather than simply advise."

"Exactly."

"Will he know with what virtues he must imbue the new armor with?"

"He will," said the Ancient. "When the time comes. Even I do not yet know--he will need to meditate and get his visions that way. Have faith in him; he will know what to do."

"Hai, Kaos," said Anubis, smiling up at the old man. He remembered a time when he would rather have slain the Ancient where he stood--and it hit him at different times how much he had changed. It astonished him how a hated enemy could become his greatest friend. He shook his head and bowed to the old man, and went off to perform his task.

---

Dawn had grayed the horizon when the dream came. Yasuo Toshitada was not alarmed at the dream; he was quite used to his signs and teachings coming to him through dreams, but this one was different. Normally his dreams were vague and symbolic, and he had to puzzle out their meaning, and if he misinterpreted, it was usually to the worse. This vivid vision left no room for error.

A tall man stood before him, his hair deep red, his eyes a blazing blue, and Yasuo understood right away that it was an ancestor of his. Not a direct ancestor, he intuited, but of his family tree. Yasuo bowed deeply, and the man returned the gesture.

He spoke in Ancient Japanese, a language Yasuo understood well, but rarely had the opportunity to use. "My name is Shuten," the man said, smiling on Yasuo. "As you have already guessed, you are one of my family, though we have never met. I have a task for you. You know the legends of the Ronin Warriors."

Yasuo's eyes widened, and he said that yes, he knew the legends well. In fact, the latest warriors had only recently passed into that legend.

Shuten smiled. "It will soon be time for them to come once more. But there will be more than five--you must create armor for the new ones. Three of them."

Yasuo stared rudely for several moments before managing to get a grip on himself and apologize for gaping like a hooked fish. Shuten only chuckled, and Yasuo was relieved he wasn't more upset. It wasn't as if he had practice talking directly with his ancestors, after all, and after a bombshell like that--! "Me, Shuten-san?" he said incredulously. "I am to create the armor of the Ronin? I do not know if I am up to the task!"

Shuten only smiled and put a hand on Yasuo's shoulder. "You are," he said. "Indeed you are possibly the only one who can do this. You have the knowledge, and you have the skill. Most importantly, you have the power of a mystic. You know this."

Yasuo felt as if he been punched in the stomach. He understood the tremendous honor he had just been given, and the tremendous responsibility. He also understood that if he were to make even one mistake, the results would likely mean the death of the one wearing the armor. His first, half-panicked reaction was to refuse, to entreat Shuten to give this privilege to someone more worthy, but he did not. It would have been exceedingly disrespectful, and Yasuo was not entirely sure there was anyone else as familiar with the legends.

"These...these armors," he finally said. "They will each bear a virtue--how will I know what virtues they are to bear?"

"You will know," said Anubis. "You have your ways. I think...I think that you will see the ones who will eventually wear the armors, and will be able to use knowledge of their own virtues to imbue the armors. They will not be tied to the elements, nor the seasons as with the masho armors. I don't know what they will be tied to, but again...you will know." Yasuo said nothing, and Anubis grasped his shoulder once more, looking into the young man's eyes. "I have faith in you, Yasuo-chan." Yasuo blinked at the title of affection, not offended by it, but pleased. He felt this man truly cared for him, even if he'd never seen him before. "You will see me again."

The man, Shuten, faded out as if he had never been there to begin with, and Yasuo woke with a start, his eyes wide, and sat bolt upright in his bed. The first thing he felt was fear; the responsibility that had been bestowed upon him was frightening, and he was far more intimidated than he would ever admit. He closed his eyes and took a big breath, letting it out slowly. He took several moments to calm himself before opening his eyes and getting up from his bed. He had a full day of research and meditation ahead of him to begin to gather the information he would need.

---

When Vittorio Digaetano woke that morning in 2068, he had no idea that it would be the last day of his mortal life. He would have liked the idea, had he known; however as it was, it took him completely by surprise. The man walked to work along the streets of Palermo, wondering why the hell the skies were stormy and dark when they had called for fair weather, when he was approached by some crazy, green-haired guy wearing some weird kind of long-underwear armor. Not much shocked Vittorio, but this definitely got his attention. He wondered briefly if he hadn't been overdoing it a little bit in the wine department of late.

"Doubtless you won't believe what I'm going to tell you," said the green-haired man in greeting, "but I understand that you like power."

The man smiled, and Vittorio regarded him skeptically, his eyes narrowed. He had spoken in Japanese, he understood that, but for some reason Vittorio could understand every word. "Sure," he said in Italian. "Who doesn't?"

The green-haired man snorted, obviously able to comprehend this language in turn. "Who, indeed? You crave it just a little more than the average man--yes, I know that. It's why you side with your...Mafia..." The word was spoken in awkward Italian, and Vittorio's eyes widened with shock. No one, not even his parents or his lover, knew that. Was this a rival? Was he a government agent? Contemplating killing the man, he didn't realize he'd gone on speaking. "...can offer you far more than your bosses."

Vittorio winced, glancing quickly around him, then glared at the man. "We can talk about this elsewhere, fool," he hissed. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

The man shrugged nonchalantly, and let Vittorio lead him back towards his home, which was on a large bit of land. They would have privacy there.

"Who are you, anyway?" Vittorio demanded once within the gates of his estate. "And how the hell do you know about me and my...Family?"

"You'll know the answers to those questions if you accept my invitation," said the man curtly. "However as to my name...you can call me Sekhmet."

Vittorio snorted. "You don't look Egyptian to me."

"Nazaa if you like, then," said the man impatiently. "It doesn't matter. What matters is this: my master has extended an offer of hospitality to you. We're recruiting for our...army, I suppose you'd call it. We search for lieutenants--and you were identified as a hopeful. Though why, for all the world, I can't see."

Vittorio bristled at the insult, dropping his shoulders and narrowing his dark eyes. "Get the hell off my property," he said in a low tone, "and hope I don't decide to kill you where you stand. I don't take insults from a mi--"

What happened then was almost too fast for Vittorio to follow. Sekhmet leaped backwards, shouting out something in Japanese, and Vittorio was not quite sure how...but Sekhmet was suddenly wearing a full suit of strange armor, armor that bore the resemblance of a snake, down to a face mask that pointed down like a serpent's head. Vittorio stared as the man drew six katana, setting them to hover in the air in front of him. "Try and kill me," the man invited, his tone taunting.

Again Vittorio fumed, anger bursting through his astonishment, and he reached inside his suit coat for the dagger he kept there. Most of his colleagues wore laser guns, but Vittorio did not like firearms, preferring instead to use more primitive weapons. However he didn't get the chance to draw it.

With a lightning-quick motion, Sekhmet grasped the hilt of one of his swords and jerked it to the side, somehow linking all of the swords into one long chain. As Vittorio stared once more, Sekhmet brought the sword-whip forward and struck Vittorio in the arm.

Vittorio screamed. He had never screamed in his adult life, not even when he was shot in the chest by a cop, or stabbed in the back by an irate business partner. But this, this was pain like he had never before felt. He staggered backwards, staring at Sekhmet in horror, as the green-haired man struck twice more, like a snake himself, then somehow banished his armor and his weapons. "Still want to kill me?"

"No," said Vittorio, making great effort to speak. The slash wounds burned like fire, and he suspected the blades had been treated with drug or poison, because he felt like he'd been given a dose of nerve gas. It wasn't true; Vittorio very _much_ wanted to kill this man, but was certainly not up to making the effort.

"Good." Sekhmet stepped forward and grasped Vittorio's arm firmly, holding it fast when the man tried to pull back, and did something--Vittorio didn't know what he did, but when he was done, the burning pain was gone. The slashes were still there, but it was bearable--somehow this man had taken the drug from the wound.

Sekhmet stepped back, and Vittorio regarded the man with grudging respect. "You mentioned power," he finally said, still staring at the man as if he were an alien.

"I did," said Sekhmet, his voice calm, but there was an odd glint in his eyes; he had enjoyed giving his little demonstration. "You've now seen the sort of power my master has to offer. Are you interested?"

"Yeah," said Vittorio, clutching his arm and slowly nodding his head. "Yeah, I am." He never regretted his decision. He followed Sekhmet into the Nether Realm, and became the Warlord of Power.

He was not the last. From the Dark Continent in 2070 came Haazita Mushota, Warlord of Enmity and Discord, a woman both quick to grin and quick to kill; and Moral Sullivan, a nineteen year old youth from the United States of 2086, whose talents lay in spying and swindling. He would be the last of the lesser warlords; Talpa now had three generals and seven lieutenants.

The new recruits were a bit more difficult to break in. While Shuang was as stubborn as ten mules, these new ones had qualities that did not fit in nearly so well with the others. Vittorio seemed to adjust the best, accustomed to doing what the "bosses" said. Talpa needed to discipline him only once, demonstrating his power and thus earning Vittorio's respect.

Moral Sullivan, however, was a youth with no sense of honor. His spying skills and his gift for trickery were great, but his tendency towards backstabbing was difficult to monitor. He was expert at keeping his doings a secret, even from Talpa, unless he used mystical means. He'd disciplined the boy, but it did not seem to deter him right at first. He would be slow to integrate.

And Haazita, she enjoyed pitting people against one another—again her skill would be quite useful for Talpa, if he could only stop her using her skill on his others. It took a great deal of contemplation before he decided not to simply kill the both of them and seek out someone else. His patience paid off; once he realized that he could easily keep Haazita satisfied by letting her go covertly into the mortal world to use her powers, she was far easier to control. Moral was a little more difficult; he never did get along with the other warlords, and Jin outright despised him.

There was some fighting that Talpa had to allow among his warlords, for it wasn't in human nature to repress their urges and their rage all the time. When Moral scoffed at the idea of honor to Jin, and she laid him out with one kick to the solar plexus, Talpa did nothing. Moral needed to know what the others would and would not tolerate. When Vittorio tried to overpower Dais during a training session, he didn't stop Dais from pinning him to the ground with his web and half-suffocating the man.

Eventually, though, the new group began to settle down into routine, slowly and grudgingly accepted into the group. Once he could be sure of their loyalty, Talpa gave them their armors; the spy, Moral, received armor that rendered him invisible, and a laser pistol stolen from the mortal government. For Haazita, armor that would charge any weapon she wielded with enmity, causing people affected by it to turn on his friends. Vittorio's armor could recharge by wind, water, sun, or electricity, and could fuel his body for days on end without food or sleep. As his new additions became familiar with their armor, and grew proficient with their weaponry, Talpa was pleased.

Soon the world would know him once again.

---

The years passed, and for Yasuo Toshitada, they were busy ones. The crafting of Ronin armor was not something one could take lightly, nor could one hurry in making. He also was able to locate the hiding places of the original armor, foreseeing that they would all eventually make their way to their new owners, except for one—the Halo armor. Yasuo would have to retrieve that one mystically and ensure its new owner received it.

Days of meditation and vision-questing had brought him the names and visages of those who would bear the armors, and weeks upon weeks of research had given him the information he would need to begin work.

It took years to perfect the Ronin armor--aside from the physical crafting, the mystical imbuement of powers, virtues, and renewal characteristics took both time and life force, and there was only so much a mortal could do at once. He crafted them that they looked very similar to the original armor, of course using Japanese legend and history as a guide for their design. They were created for maximum use of their abilities, as well as best protection against weaponry.

The world had celebrated the beginning of 2091 when the armors were finished, and Yasuo had prepared himself for a long, arduous journey. He had to travel all over the globe to contact the Ronin Warriors--as always, the Ronin did not realize their destiny until it fell into their hands, sometimes quite literally.

The orbs that contained the essences of the armor were stored in a pouch protected with the strongest magic Yasuo could summon. He did not think the demon Talpa knew of him, but there was no sense in being careless.

When Yasuo left his home, he carried several changes of clothing in a backpack, clothing that would help him to fit in, in the countries he visited. As the years passed by, so many of the countries had adopted similar styles of dress, one culture bleeding into another, but there were enough differences that he wanted to be prepared.

The first of the youths lived in Japan. Yasuo had a vague idea where he was to look, but even so, Japan was a big place, and it had a lot of people...now more than ever before. His journey would not be a short one.

And here are the rest of the new warlords:

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	3. No Quarter

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 3: No Quarter**

Sirens shrieked, rising even above the jets and the laser weapons that streaked from the sky and in the streets, harming friend as well as enemy at times—it was still a very new technology, rushed into battle by their bearers. Thunder crashed overhead, adding to the din, transforming the once-quiet streets of Darwin, Australia into a confusion of noise, nothing but noise, screaming and gunshots and explosions...

Kalama Nohano cowered behind the ruins of what had once been a supermarket by the looks of it, trying only not to be shot or trampled or blown up. He'd never been more scared in his life—he wasn't even in a country that was his own. The shouting, the screaming for help or mercy, English, but accented, sometimes so badly he could scarcely understand them. It was as if they were speaking in tongues.

A blast sounded behind him, making him scream, and he whirled around. Another scream sounded, a young-sounding scream, and Nohano caught sight of another boy running, his face blackened by soot, or maybe blood—Nohano couldn't tell which. The boy looked about Nohano's age, but with tears streaming down his cheeks and a look of sheer terror on his face, he seemed much younger.

A sharp pang of fear for the other boy gripped Nohano, and he dashed from his hiding place, running after him. The boy ran, seemingly not even noticing Nohano, the fierce wind whipping his blond hair back.

It began to rain—the laser fire ceased, the weapons useless in the rain, but the screaming and the gunpowder blasts did not stop. But there was another sound now, a louder sound, a great roaring. Nohano looked up in terror at a great wall of water rising in the dark, and he realized with sudden horror that it was going to crash down on him and the other boy...

Someone was shaking him—a great disorientation came over Nohano as he opened his eyes, squinting in bright sunlight that shone on his face. He screamed and sat bolt upright, catching sight of someone recoiling quickly so they wouldn't bang heads. Nohano stared...the tent. He was lying in the tent. The din outside was not caused by a war, but of merrymakers at the faire, all dressed in clothing of the Renaissance period. Shaking, Nohano looked to the person was had wakened him—it was only Robert, one of the others singers in the group, a look of concern on his face.

"You okay, kid?" Robert asked.

"I-I--" Nohano looked around and took in a big breath, realizing he was shaking badly. He looked back outside the opening of the tent, where the sunlight had come from, taking a few moments to calm down. Finally he was able to speak without his voice trembling. "I'm okay," he said, running a hand distractedly through his thick, black hair. "I'm okay. Just—just a bad water dream."

Comprehension crossed Robert's face—the whole group knew of Nohano's fear of water, especially as it sometimes haunted him at night. As they all shared sleeping quarters when on the road, they'd found out about his fear fairly quickly. "I hear ya, kid. You gonna be okay? We're on in about fifteen minutes, on the east stage."

"Thanks," said Nohano, smiling a little and sitting all the way up. "I'll be ready."

Robert nodded, and clapped Nohano on the shoulder. "All right, kid. See ya in a few."

Nohano watched him leave the tent, then lay back in the grass, his eyes closed. He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep in the middle of the Renaissance Faire, and with their next performance so close; he'd never done that before. He was always too excited to sleep, no matter how tired he was. He'd traveled with the group now for nearly a year, but he never managed to grow tired of it.

Nohano sat back up, creeping out of the little tent, a tent they used to store their things between performances, and to catch some rest if they liked.

The dream. That had been the worst nightmare he had ever had before—and so strange! The war was bad enough, it was a war that was truly happening across the sea in Australia, a civil war, but to add the tsunami into it... And strangely, Nohano couldn't shake the remnants of the dream. "Damn it, it was nothing," he hissed to himself, turning his face to the sun. It was March 15th, an unlucky day if one happened to be superstitious. The Ides of March. Nohano wasn't normally superstitious, but after that miserable dream, he wasn't so sure!

He shook his head and ducked back into the tent, grabbing his headband from the floor. The headband, part of his pirate costume, had apparently come off during his dream. He tied it back on and grabbed his drum, and made for the east stage.

"No Quarter" was the name of their group, a pirate-themed singing group that performed at Renaissance Faires and other themed gatherings and places around the United States. Nohano had first joined the group several months ago at the age of fourteen, auditioning at one of the many faires in California. Normally one had to be eighteen to travel with a faire group, but Nohano was an emancipated minor, and therefore could legally gain employment.

He had never regretted it; he loved traveling, and loved singing. He also loved pirates and theme festivals, so to him, it was the perfect job.

The others had already set up by the time Nohano got to the stage, and he grinned at them as he ascended the short flight of steps leading up to it. They all greeted him, looking rather wrung out. It was their third performance that day, and the day was blazing hot; no one wanted to expend energy before they had to perform. Nohano was perfectly happy with the weather; the hotter the better, but his friends didn't care for it quite as much. Singing under the sun was hot work.

"What're we doing first?" asked Nohano.

"'Drunken Sailor'," said Robert, who was the leader of the group. He was the oldest, at twenty-seven, and handled most of the group's gigs and finances. There were only five of them, but keeping track of everyone could be difficult work!

Nohano managed a smile. "Oh, good." That was one they'd played numerous times over the past year, which meant that Nohano didn't have to concentrate too much on it; he was still a little distracted. He listened with one ear as Robert introduced them all, smiling a little wryly as he was presented as Kalama Nohano. He liked his last name better, so that's what he went by, and hearing his full name always sounded odd to him.

He watched Robert pick up his guitar, and nod his head down once, the subtle signal to start the music. Nohano raised his hands and brought them down on the large drum, beating out the rhythm and singing alto harmony as an audience began to gather from among the people milling about.

Their group wasn't exactly famous, but they were fairly well known among faire-goers and the like. Mostly they traveled around the numerous faires in the western United States, but they'd been to all fifty-one of them at one point or another—not in the time Nohano had been with them, though he _had_ been to several, including Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico had been interesting. They'd sung a Spanish song, and had at least three people tell them of the words they'd pronounced wrong. But, you had some know-it-all creeps in every crowd, he supposed.

The song finished, and Nohano raised his hands, whooping it up with the rest of the group. His preoccupation lessened as the show continued—singing could always do that to him. By the time their performance was finished, and they were passing the hat for coins, he had almost forgotten his dream entirely.

"Man!" exclaimed their bass singer, a man named Gregory. "It's a scorcher out here." Gregory was actually from England, so the accent he used in the show was the only real one. Nohano only grinned, and Gregory rolled his eyes in a fond sort of way. "There's something wrong with you, I'm tellin' you. No normal human thrives in this heat. You sure you're not part reptile?"

"Only part?" said Nohano, raising his eyebrows.

Gregory laughed. "Guess that's my answer! Hey, gimme a hand with this crate, will you? We gotta cart our crap down to the south side of the fairgrounds for our last performance."

Nohano nodded agreeably and took the other end of the crate, which held various things like costume parts, the CDs they'd cut, and the ukulele that Gregory played. The group had a sort of routine down regarding the movement of their equipment. It didn't matter who the things belonged to, everyone just picked something up and carried it off, like a group of ants. Nohano saw Robert grab the drum and the mallets Nohano used on some songs. It took them less than ten minutes to move.

He got through the rest of the day well enough, though was a bit irritated when clouds began to roll in from the west. Irwindale, the little town in which the faire was held, was right down near Mexico, but it was also on the coast, and got their share of thunderstorms. He supposed he couldn't complain too much; the last week had been sunny and hot. Still, the sky had a bit of a greenish cast to it, which made him think again of his dream, where it had stormed overhead while the battle raged below.

When the fair was ended Nohano joined the rest of the group in one of the beer tents, drinking a soda with a lot of caffeine in it. Even he felt beat—it had been a grueling day for certain. They'd had two more performances per day than usual at the California faire; no one minded because it was a high-paying gig, but it did leave them tired!

"Too bad you can't have a beer," said Manny, another of the group, grinning and waving a black-colored can his way.

Nohano snorted. "No thanks," he said. "That stuff's vile, especially the used motor oil you like to drink."

The others chuckled, and Robert voiced his agreement. "I like beer as well as the next guy, but not when I can see iron filings swirling around in it."

"Hey!" protested Manny, raising the Guinness as if it were an idol to be worshipped. "These are not iron filings."

"Steel, then."

Nohano laughed and finished off his soda, sitting back in a chair and watching the faire guests all trickle out of a nearby gate. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, stretching his arms out. "You definitely get strong, beating that drum all the time," he commented. "Not to mention lugging equipment around all over creation because they can't keep us at one stupid stage the whole day!"

Robert chuckled, nodding his head. "Get used to it," he said. "Damn near all of them do it that way. Makes it more interesting for the guests, I guess, and gives the big groups all a chance at the bigger stages."

"Well, I guess that makes sense. But is still sucks a rock."

"Christ on a crutch," came Gregory's voice, from where he stood at the edge of the beer tent. "Will you look at those clouds? That's a hell of a storm brewing out there."

Feeling more alarmed than he should, Nohano stood quickly and joined him. Other faire workers were there too, and they began to gather just outside, looking up at the sky. It certainly did look threatening—the sky was greenish, and increasingly darker clouds were rolling in at an alarming rate.

"Wow. You don't think we're gonna be getting a hurricane, do you?" asked Aaron, the fifth member of No Quarter. "I know they're getting bashed, big time, over in Australia and Africa, but..."

"It's weird," said Manny, frowning and shaking his head. "It's weird the places that are getting hit by hurricanes. The weather just gets stranger and stranger each year. And so bloody early!"

Nohano said nothing. Not a big fan of thunderstorms to begin with, this had him more uptight than most. Something big was about to happen. Not that day, maybe, but soon, and he didn't know _how_ he knew. It was a crazy intuition—he shook his head slowly, wondering if that dream had somehow rattled his brain.

"Guess we'd best head out, then," said Robert. "Don't wanna be driving in a bloody hurricane." They'd all picked up the word "bloody" in normal speech, partly because of Gregory and partly because they used it in their pirate personas a whole lot.

"Aw, that'd be fun," said Manny, grinning and tossing his beer can into a nearby receptacle.

Robert rolled his eyes, and headed out of the tent. "Come on, smartass...just for that, you get to help with the heavy equipment."

That was a bit of a joke, seeing as how they didn't really have any "heavy" equipment, and it took all of a half hour to get it all loaded into Manny's van.

Of course it left little room to sit. Nohano, being the youngest, was usually relegated on the floor of the van, between the two middle seats. He protested, as usual, and said that next time, he was taking the shotgun seat. "You guys won't let me drive," he complained as they drove home, "so I gotta take shotgun."

"Ha!" said Manny. "We let you drive, and we'd never make it home in one piece!" He was sitting in the front passenger seat; the van was in his name, but Robert and Gregory did all the driving. Manny didn't like to drive and Aaron had no license.

"Hey!" Nohano shot Manny a look, but didn't manage to keep the smirk from surfacing. It rather decreased the effect of his glare. "Jerk."

"That's me!" The others called him a jerk so often it was almost a pet name; he never took much offense. He took pride in it, after all!

Oddly enough, it had not yet begun to rain before the group arrived at the studio apartment they were sharing while in Irwindale. In fact, it didn't rain the entire night, though a sort of blue funk seemed to descend on the group as the night progressed. Gregory cooked macaroni and cheese, and after supper they played a game of Monopoly that Robert won, but after that, everyone fell silent.

Nohano looked out of the window only once, caught the unnatural green-tinged clouds above, and shut the curtain. "I'm going to bed," he said abruptly. Maybe he was coming down with something; that would explain having fallen asleep earlier during the faire, too.

"Night, kid," said Robert, giving Nohano's hair a wild swipe. "Hey--why d'you wear that headband out of costume, anyway?"

Nohano grinned a little and shrugged. "Keeps my hair out of my eyes. Besides, it looks cool." Nohano bade the others good night, crept into the hammock he used while traveling, and closed his eyes. Surprisingly, he fell asleep almost immediately.

---

The dreams came again that night; thankfully the tsunami dream did not return, but there were others. He dreamt of a slight-statured Asian girl with striking blue eyes walking along a highway, a backpack on her back, looking as though she'd traveled for hundreds of miles. Several people passed in cars, some of those cars looking nearly 100 years old, and Nohano was indignant that some who passed shouted jeers or insults to her in a language he didn't recognize. It was clear it wasn't polite, however, from the girl's angry words. It seemed as if Nohano watched her walking forever, before the dream shifted.

He stood in an apartment, feeling bewildered and disoriented, watching an altercation between a man and a woman. They were in the middle of a divorce, it seemed, and arguing about who "he" should live with. On catching sight of a redheaded boy off to one side, Nohano realized it was the "he" being argued about. He felt the hot burn of anger; were these really his parents? Were they arguing, right in front of their son, about who he should live with?

Finally the boy spoke in a hurt, angry voice. "Damn it, stop it! Shut up, both of you! I hate you, I'm not a—a thing! You won't make me choose!" Nearly in tears, the boy ran from the room, his astonished parents staring after them. His father hollered for him to get the hell back there, but the boy did not return, and as the mother slapped the father for speaking "that way" to the boy, the argument degenerated into physical violence. Nohano took a step forward, intending to drag them apart, but the scene shifted once more.

A stout Middle Eastern girl sat at a McDonald's with a boy whose nationality Nohano could not identify; he was tall, stocky, and had shock-white hair. The eyes behind his glasses were a strange, light blue, and his skin pale; Nohano thought he might be an albino. German, maybe? They did not speak, and Nohano wondered if they knew English. He heard the boy mutter something, and shove a burnt-looking French fry off to one side, and Nohano could not tell what language he spoke.

The boy dreamt one last time that night, of a tall, Asian boy that at first he thought was a woman because of his smooth skin and soft, black hair that went past his waist. The boy—man?-- had a boy that looked East Indian. Nohano watched as the man worked in a hangar, teaching the boy about what he was doing to repair the airplanes. Nohano approached, listening to them talk, and realized they both spoke English well, but with very distinct accents. Neither of them had been born in the United States, it was clear.

"What's wrong with it?" asked the little boy, standing on a ladder and on his tiptoes, in order to see into the engine.

"I don't know yet," answered the boy, frowning and bending over to examine the depths of the engine cavity. There was a thump, and a spat word that sounded like it must be a swear word, and a giggle from the little boy, muffled with his hand. The older boy extracted himself and stood on his ladder, frowning at the object that he held in his hand.

With sudden urgency, Nohano rushed forward to get a look at the item the boy held, and felt his whole body go cold; the boy held an orb in his hand, a small, blue orb that swirled with strange, blue mist. Nohano stared at the orb, while the rest of the dream seemed to fade out...

He sat bolt upright, looking frantically around, and realized he was no longer dreaming, and that the other members of No Quarter had also gone to sleep...hours ago, from the quiet that hung about the apartment. Nohano glanced at the clock, saw that it was four in the morning, and got up out of his hammock.

There was no sound except the faint rush of traffic from outside, and the ticking of Gregory's alarm clock. A quick glance at it told Nohano that it was set for ten—that made sense, they had no gigs the following day, and there was no reason to get up earlier.

Nohano slid to his knees on the hardwood floor to where the group had piled all their bags, and grabbed out the suitcase that held all of Nohano's personal belongings. He didn't have much in the way of belongings; he traveled too much to have a permanent lodging. He opened the suitcase up and dug beneath his clothing and a couple of his favorite books, and picked up a small, wooden box.

The box was something of an enigma to Nohano; he had been given the box on the day he left his foster home, the day he got his emancipation papers from the court. "We got this a few years ago," his foster mother had explained. "It said you were to get it when you were old enough. I honestly don't know what it is, but as you're to take responsibility for yourself from here on out, I'd say you were old enough to have whatever's inside."

She'd not known who sent it, only that the postmark had been from Japan. Nohano, intrigued, had opened it, but what was inside was a total mystery to him...until now.

Nohano opened the box now and grasped the object within. His shaking hand held a small orb, about the size of a ping pong ball, and though the mist swirling inside was red and not blue like the ball he had seen in his dream, they were an exact match.

Nohano Kalama, in his subgear. This was my best of the new Ronin pictures, and is accurate.  
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	4. Journey's End

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 4: Journey's End**

The boy sat quietly in the studio apartment, gazing at the orb in his hand, and intuiting that this orb could be the most important thing he had ever owned, and that it was connected, somehow, with the others he had dreamed of that day. The Australian boy caught in the tsunami had survived, Nohano suddenly knew this with absolute certainty. As crazy as it seemed, the nightmare he had lived through had happened; when, he didn't know, but it had happened. The young man fixing the plane and the boy he looked after, they were connected, too, and the Asian girl, making her way across endless highways. The albino boy and the Middle Eastern girl he shared a table with at McDonald's, they were all a part of it.

"But what?" Nohano asked himself quietly. "What are they a part of? We...are 'we' a part of?"

"Huh?" Gregory, his tone slurred and sleepy, turned to regard Nohano, who deftly hid the orb in his hand.

"Nothin'," said Nohano, feeling a little guilty for lying to his friend. "Just looking for something."

"Mm...'kay." Gregory turned over in his bedroll and closed his eyes again. Nohano looked back to the orb, putting away his other belongings and zipping up his suitcase. He slipped the orb into the pocket of his pajama bottoms and slipped back into his hammock. Whatever secrets this strange orb held, he would begin figuring them out the next day.

---

Xander Black wandered the streets of Indianapolis, lost in an unhappy daze. Two weeks ago he had walked out of his parents' home in Washington DC, never to return. He had walked out with only the clothes on his back, furious at his parents for their fighting, for their divorce, for their efforts to persuade Xander to take sides. He had read about custody battles, and knew that they could get ugly, but he never knew just how awful they could be, and how they could make you feel like you were being torn in half.

He loved his parents still, even through the anger that made him declare that he hated them. But his home could never be his home again, and he could never go back. It was broken, just like his parents' relationship, and Xander had bigger things that he must do. The man whom he had met the month previous, the one who had given him his orb; the crazy Asian man who spoke of magic and warriors and dynasties, he had given Xander more to think about than his parents.

It was small enough to fit in his pocket, but was more powerful than anything he had ever seen in his life; it was an orb, an orb that swirled with gray smoke. When the Asian man had told Xander it was magic, and contained the essence of armor, he had scoffed. But when the man put the orb in his hand, closed his eyes, and let go, the orb was gone. And Xander was covered in armor. He certainly believed, then!

Xander had done a lot of experimenting since then, sometimes skipping school to do it. It got him grounded, but he didn't care; it only gave him more time to experiment with his new armor. He had found out a lot in that month, helped along by a whole lot of strange dreams he'd had in those weeks, dreams about others who had their own weird armor.

When he'd walked out of his home, he knew where he was headed; across the entire country towards the West Coast, hitching rides from strangers and creeping out into traffic to sit on the bumpers of pickup trucks and other larger vehicles. (That was fun, but he had been very lucky not to be caught.)

He still had a very long way to go, which was beginning to discourage him. He'd had to take odd jobs here and there for money to buy food, and it wasn't always possible to find someone who'd hire a teenager for an afternoon. He'd gone hungry more often than he cared to think about, and his mood was in a rather dark abyss. Several times he had nearly given up, only moving on again when he held the armor orb in his hand, and felt its energy. There would come a time when he would need to use that armor, and he needed to be in the right place when that time came.

-

It had been a long, hard journey, but finally she had made it to America. Getting past the border guards had not been too difficult for Amaya, slipping through the night with her camouflaged sub-armor. Concealment was not her strength, but she was cunning and quick, and the mystical armor she wore blocked the guards' electronic sensors.

She, of all who were chosen to bear the armor of the Ronin, knew the most of the legends and the armor itself. When she had been approached in Japan by the strange, red-haired man, he had given her the armor orb she now carried everywhere she went. He had told her that she was the great, great granddaughter of Sanada Ryo, the leader of the last band of Ronin Warriors, and bearer of the Wildfire armor. The armor that Amaya wore now was not Wildfire, but a newly created armor known as Night. She wasn't surprised; fire was not exactly something she had any affinity for, but the night she called family.

Amaya had researched for weeks, looking up the legends and speaking with her grandparents. Her grandmother had not been surprised by the girl's questions, and answered as many of them as she could; she was the daughter of Sanada Ryo, and had spent a good deal of time with him, even into adulthood.

Grandmother had not been able to fill in all the blanks, and Amaya's own armor was a great mystery. She was able to learn how to summon the full armor by sheer willpower, and that it allowed her to see and maneuver in complete darkness, but she knew little of its abilities beyond that. Of the weapon, there was no mystery; it was magical, that was obvious, but required no ceremony to work. Amaya knew several martial arts styles and was well-trained in the use of different weapons. The nunchaku that had appeared with the armor was a weapon she was well familiar with, and she practiced it often.

The dreams began a week later, dreams of the Dynasty, and she knew the demon creature would return soon. She also knew she would have to help the other learn their armor, for only one of them was from Japan, and even he didn't know the Ronin legends, beyond a few folk tales. The others converged on America, and it was there she must go.

In the end, it wasn't so difficult to get leave from her parents; unbeknownst to her, Grandmother had spoken to them, telling them that Amaya had inherited the destiny of her great grandfather. They had understood, and helped Amaya gather the things she would need for her journey.

Once in America, the red-haired man had entered her dreams, telling her where she must go; the West Coast, where the others would congregate. And so she began the final leg of her journey.

-

Demetrius Rost had the good fortune to be able to fly to America. His parents were well off, and they had given him enough money to get himself a passport and visa papers, to travel to America, and to help him find lodging.

It was a challenge, living in America. Demetrius knew fewer than ten words in English, and he stood out quite prominently, with his white hair and his strange eyes. He had an electronic translator, but it did not always translate things quite right, and it ended up being a very interesting ordeal even to do the simplest things. Ordering a meal could get exasperating, and trying to find lodging was nearly impossible. He had finally used the translator to write out a note in badly spelled English he could use each time: "I do not speak English. I wish to seek lodging here tonight. Please tell me how much a room is." Then he could simply use the translator to complete the conversation. It worked a lot better that way!

He had met a girl in his travels, who he realized quickly had the same goal he did. She was from Pakistan, and spoke a strange tongue called "Urdu", an exotic, beautiful language that he enjoyed listening to. With the help of his universal translator, she and Demetrius had been able to exchange stories.

The girl, Rashida, had also come to America, seeking out others who bore the Ronin armors. She had gotten hers on her sixteenth birthday, not knowing who it had come from. Like Demetrius, she had figured out how to don her sub-armor, and how to banish it, but little else. She showed Demetrius her orb, which swirled wisps of green, and he had brought out the orange armor.

The two got along quite well, despite having very little in common when it came to interests and personality. Rashida was quiet and intense, preferring to read or study, while Demetrius was cheerful and easy-going, preferring to be outside on the earth, and enjoyed things like archeology and rock-collecting. In fact, he had been fossil-hunting when he'd come across the orange orb, buried beneath a foot of stone, and he had already guessed that it had some kind of tie with stone, or earth, simply from where he had found it. It had gone buried for who knew how long, without a scratch on it. When he wore the sub-armor, he felt the way he did when lying on the earth, or digging in a stone quarry.

Rashida said she hadn't gotten quite that far with her sphere, and that she thought whatever it was tied to, it was something more elusive and abstract than stone. Demetrius suggested hesitantly that flora might be the orb's alignment, because of the green, but Rashida said she'd already tested out the theory. "I guess I will find out," she said through Demetrius's translator. "I only hope that I will find out in time."

-

Darwin had nearly been destroyed by the monster tsunami, and millions of people had been killed or injured by it. And even then, even in the face of that disaster and the hurricanes that wracked the coasts, they could not stop fighting. Even when nature itself wreaked disaster on their people, they couldn't stop their bloody, miserable war.

Killian Zale had been caught in that tsunami, but he hadn't died; he hadn't even been injured. When the wave hit, he thought he was dead, but oddly he felt no panic--only peace as the water descended. But when the wave crashed down, he was washed several miles offshore, alive and unharmed, and utterly astonished. He quickly realized that he had been swept nearly to Melville Island, and it was the swim of perhaps a kilometer to reach land. It was quite an easy swim for him, strong swimmer that he was.

It was a relief to reach shore, however. The island had been evacuated when the hurricanes started, and the only people there now he knew would be refugees trying to escape the fighting on the main island. No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing there. Exhausted by the day, the running, the terror, trying to stay out of the way of the soldiers, he crawled onto the beach and lay down. For anyone else, lying so close to the water in the middle of a hurricane would be the height of foolishness, but Killian didn't fear the water. To him, the water was a sanctuary; it soothed his terror and eased his fatigue.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. When he woke, blinking at the peculiar sensation of a very small hermit crab latched onto his cheek, he sat up, smiling and gently pulling the little creature off. He set the crab on the beach, where it retreated into its shell. Killian took a big breath and looked around; the wind still howled, though he perceived a marked decrease in its strength. He rubbed his eyes, then hissed as he ground sand into them. Muttering about doing stupid things, he ducked briefly into the shallows to rinse himself off.

It was then he saw it. A glint of blue, lighter than the water, almost seeming to glow in the surf. Reaching his hand out to grab it, he stared at a sphere, a sphere of aqua blue, swirling impossibly with mist. When his fingers touched the object, the last of his fatigue and fear seemed to fade, and he knew beyond a doubt that he was meant to find this special object. He slipped it into his pocket and headed further ashore.

He hid out for several days on Melville Island, dreaming the strangest dreams. After a week had gone by, he understood he had to leave the country, and knew he had the capability to do so on his own; he could swim. It was more than five hundred kilometers to the nearest main island, but the sphere in Killian's pocket would help him make the swim. It was insane, and the boy questioned his own sanity, but it wasn't any crazier than that madness back on the mainland.

A month later he was in Asia, avoiding the authorities, and trying to find a way to the Americas. In India, he managed to locate an ocean liner with an English-speaking crew, and bartered passage on the ship in exchange for working as a cabin boy. He even enjoyed the trip, spending much of his off time giving swimming lessons. Once they realized how well the boy swam, they lessened his cabin boy duties and let him instruct the passengers.

Three months later, Killian was in California.

-

Tarun Narayan had lived his entire life in an orphanage, cared for by the sisters who ran it. He spent his days going to school and playing with the other children. At the age of nine, his entire life was turned upside down by a Japanese man who had come to see him at the orphanage. He had not come to adopt Tarun, as first he had hoped, but he had brought a strange story, and a very special orb.

It didn't occur to Tarun to disbelieve the story; he firmly believed in magic, and felt sorry for people who didn't.

The boy had left the orphanage, leaving behind a note, and sneaking out during the night. He didn't like nighttime very much, but unfortunately sneaking out during the day would have been impossible. He hoped that the sisters did not worry too much about him, and that they would not miss him too badly. He knew he would miss them and his home, but he was also excited about the adventure that lay before him.

Yasuo Toshitada brought the boy to America, a land that Tarun had always wanted to see. He had been learning English in his school, and was eager to practice. When he asked Yasuo what they would do here in the United States, he said they had to seek out a man called Suisei. "He is to be your guardian, Tarun," said the man. "I have spoken to him in his dreams, and he will know you when he sees you."

"You can talk to people in dreams?" asked Tarun, fascinated.

"I can,' said Yasuo with a smile. "It is a gift I possess. This gift also allows me to track down the people I contact. We will find him, and then I must leave you."

Tarun did not like the idea of the man leaving him, but he said nothing. If it was necessary, it was necessary, and he could not change the necessity...but he still didn't have to like it! Still, he had a few days left to enjoy his new friend's company, and to pester him with questions, so he supposed it could have been worse.

--

Suisei Kyoto had come to America when he turned eighteen, having always wanted to see the United States. It was vastly different than Japan, and not nearly as crowded.

Pursuing his dream of one day learning to fly, he managed to get a job at an airline hangar, learning how to fix the planes and doing odd jobs around the facility. He began saving money for flight school, while learning as much as he could about the machines. He already knew a great deal from books, but no book could teach everything.

When a man from his own country, Japan, showed up at the hangar a month later, Suisei was not surprised. He'd had the oddest dreams of late, dreams like he'd never had before, and the man's arrival was just one more bit of weirdness. Nor was Suisei surprised that the man had a small boy with him, who looked like he might be from the Middle East or India. The boy had also been in his dreams.

"Good afternoon," he greeted the man in Japanese, bowing politely to him.

"Good afternoon," replied the man with a bow of his own. "My name is Yasuo Toshitada. I think that you recognize me."

"I do," said Suisei, smiling. "Can I get you something to drink? Coffee or soda?"

"No, thank you," said Yasuo. "I cannot stay long. This is Tarun." The boy looked up at the sound of his name, the only word he could understand in the entire conversation. "I have papers with me that claim you as his legal guardian, as I have spoken of to you before."

Suisei felt a strange sort of unreality come over him. He had never been a big believer in magic; he figured some form of it must exist, but he doubted he'd ever see, even experience it. But this, this went way beyond what he thought could be possible. And it was difficult to deny when it was staring him in the face. "I am more than willing to take him in," he said. "I love children. And he's no ordinary child, is he?"

"No," said Yasuo, smiling. "Nor are you an ordinary man. And you will learn of this." Suisei blinked. "Will I be able to leave the boy here, or shall I wait until you are able to go home from work?"

Suisei shook his head. "No," he said. "It's okay to leave him here. They're really good about that kind of thing here—some of the others bring their kids here to show them around on occasion. I'll just let the boss know he's a kid I will be adopting, and I wanted to show him around."

"Then I bid you farewell," said Yasuo, bowing once more. "And the best of luck to you. Take care of each other." When Suisei had bowed back, Yasuo knelt in front of Tarun, who had watched the whole thing with mild curiosity. "I must leave you now, child," he said in English. "I have enjoyed traveling with you. Suisei will care well for you."

The boy smiled a little sadly and threw his arms around the man. Yasuo was startled, but he smiled fondly and hugged the little boy back. "I'll miss you," said Tarun.

"And I, you. But we will meet again. For now, you must be brave. I do not think that will be a problem for you, little one." Beaming at the compliment, Tarun drew back and gave a little wave as Yasuo stood and left the hangar. He looked up at Suisei expectantly.

"Well, kid, let's get you to the boss." Suisei's accent was strong, but his speech was not formal, and it was clear he had studied English for quite a while, speaking it almost as casually as a United States native. Tarun nodded his head and took Suisei's hand, following amiably along.

The pair became good friends very quickly. Tarun came to the hangar with Suisei every day that he worked, sometimes learning about the planes, sometimes helping with the work, and a lot of time just running and playing outside. The boy could not sit still for long, and seemed to be always moving. He didn't even seem to sleep as long as other people did. When one day Suisei found a very strange object in the engine of a plane he was fixing, Tarun astonishingly knew what it was—for he had one of his own.

As Yasuo made his way back home to Japan, his long task finally finished, he felt a strange sense of emptiness. He had spent so long on this project, and now that Suisei Kyoto had found his sphere, all of the Ronin Warriors were ready to gather. Still, Yasuo did not think he was finished with the Ronin Warriors just yet. They would need guidance. He could not tell them some things directly, they were things the youths had to figure out for themselves. Their armor was attuned to them, would have to grow and evolve with them, and if he were to simply tell them everything, this relationship would not happen. But once they learned the secrets, Yasuo would have to assist them. Especially when the Dynasty reared its ugly head again.

The new Ronin (wearing their subgear):

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	5. Riot Gear

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 5: Riot Gear**

When Nohano awoke, the odd clouds that had threatened the area the day before had passed, and he wondered why it hadn't stormed. He didn't think he'd ever seen the sky cloud over so badly without raining buckets. Still, he wasn't about to complain about the mystery; the hot sun had shone once again, and Nohano spent the day outside.

Despite spending a good deal of time contemplating his strange sphere, shaking it and rolling it on the floor, and trying to get it to do something, all that happened was that the mist inside swirled dizzily around. There was some kind of odd symbol within the mist that looked Chinese, but since Nohano didn't know Chinese, it did little to dispel the mystery. Nohano got exasperated with the bauble quickly, and ended up stuffing it back into his suitcase for another time, when he had a little more patience.

Come the beginning of May, No Quarter was busier than ever. May was a popular time of year for Renaissance Faires, and the group had been booked solid for a month. During the late spring and in the summer, some faires even went into the weekdays as well, taking advantage of college and high school students on break who enjoyed the festivals.

Nohano had not had much time to puzzle over his strange sphere, too busy with practices and performances. But what time he did have to himself, he devoted to figuring the strange object out.

One day in early June, utterly frustrated and angry that there seemed to be nothing whatsoever special about the orb, he'd just about had it. With the rest of No Quarter at the supermarket, and Nohano locked in the bathroom with the sphere, he clutched the thing and held it above his head, pouring out his frustration, his sheer desire to make it do anything but sit there in his hand! "Damn you, work!" he snarled. "Do _something_!"

To his astonishment, the orb disappeared, leaving his hand empty, but Nohano felt different. He looked down at himself and let a cry of startlement to see that his clothes were either gone or covered by the strange covering he now sported. It seemed to be some kind of protective gear, like the riot police wore, though he'd never seen any riot cop wearing white and red gear! His frustration melting away, he gaped in amazement, bringing his hands slowly up to peer at them; they were covered in white...gauntlets, he supposed they were.

"Unbelievable..."

Nohano wiggled his fingers, impressed at the flexibility he still retained, even though the gear seemed to be as hard as titanium. He knocked on the wall of the bathroom, making a dull clunk against the hard wood. Then he clenched a fist; it seemed impossible he could clench his hand so tightly with thick gauntlets, but he could. Nohano let a laugh of sheer delight. The sphere had been special after all; he'd just had to figure out how to work it.

"Nohano? What the hell are you doing in there? Or do I wanna know?"

Nohano nearly jumped out of his skin at Robert's voice outside the bathroom door, and he spun around, feeling as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. He hadn't been expecting the others to come back so early. "Just reading a comic book," he said, then added in a smart-aleck tone, "and sitting on the toilet. Aren't you glad I asked?"

Nohano heard a rueful chuckle from Robert, and something about wishing he hadn't asked. Nohano took a big breath—for some reason he didn't want the others to know about this. It was something that shouldn't be shared lightly, that was for certain, not to mention he was half afraid they'd lock him in the loony bin. He certainly felt as though he belonged in one!

He looked down at the odd gear, mild panic chilling his skin. How did he get the gear off? He couldn't just come out with it on, it would raise a lot of weird questions! The orb! He needed to find the orb! "Where is it?" he muttered to himself, looking at his hand as if the sphere as if it might appear of its own accord. A second later, it had. Nohano was left as he'd been on entering the bathroom, in his rumpled jeans and T-shirt, holding the swirling, red orb in one outstretched hand.

After gaping at it for several seconds, he slipped it into his pocket, sprayed some air freshener in the bathroom as if he'd spent a while using the toilet, and slipped out of the little room.

"Is it safe in there?" asked Robert mildly, sitting on his bedroll with a magazine.

"I think so," said Nohano with a laugh, though it sounded a little forced.

Apparently it sounded a little forced to Robert, too, because he gave Nohano a look of concern. "You all right, kid? You've been kinda distracted the last few days."

"Yeah...I'm okay," said Nohano, laughing again, though this one was far more natural. Distracted...that was one way to put it! "I'm okay. Just..." He shrugged. "Space cadet mode. Hey, I'm allowed to be a mental case every once in a while, aren't I?"

Robert chuckled, giving Nohano a rueful smile. "Yeah, I suppose you are. Hey, the others are outside, playing a game of badminton—you know, No Quarter style." That meant that they were not just trying to hit the shuttlecock over the net, but to hit the other team members with it—the more hits, the more points. It was a lot more fun than the normal kind! "You up for a game?"

Nohano grinned, happy to take a break for his puzzling mystery; he couldn't experiment more with Robert there, anyway. "Sure! Prepare to go down in flaming defeat!"

"Ha!" said Robert indignantly, getting to his feet and tossing his magazine down onto his bedroll. "You'll eat those words, punk!"

Robert chased a snickering Nohano down the stairs and outside, where the others had their net set up in the compound. Gregory had just nailed Aaron upside the head with the birdie, and was gloating about it. Nohano cheered and joined up on Gregory's side. "Figured you could use some help," he said, snagging a racket from the sidelines.

"Always, mate! Got to get that wretch back for defeating me last time." Which "wretch" he meant wasn't clear, but it didn't matter; they'd all won at some point in time or another.

For the next couple of hours, Nohano completely forgot about orbs and weird gear, and immersed himself in the unorthodox sport. His side claimed victory that day, four games out of six, and Nohano made sure to gloat about it as they all headed for the van to put the gear away. They didn't carry a whole lot of unnecessary things when traveling, but the badminton was how they let off steam, so they deemed it an appropriate frivolity.

Nohano relaxed the rest of the evening, and noticed that Robert didn't look worried about him anymore. 'Probably just figured I was in some kind of funk, I guess," Nohano thought, with a pang of conscience about lying to him. Nohano was fairly close to the rest of the group, as close as a group of performers get traveling together for weeks at a time. But Robert was his favorite. He had looked after Nohano at first, making sure he got along all right. He ignored the exaggerated sense of maturity that Nohano had projected when he first left the foster family, and made sure he felt included...not just some tagalong.

Still, how could he possibly explain something like that sphere, even to a good friend?

Nohano lay awake that night for three hours, pondering his problem. He had strange armor gear, armor that had been mailed from Japan when he was seven. It was destined to be his...and there had to be a reason!

He dreamed again that night, a dream that had him sitting bolt upright and screaming in terror. Even with his water dreams, Nohano had never woken screaming; he cried out sometimes, cursed, or whimpered or groaned, but never screamed. But he had never dreamed of anything like this before.

He wasn't even on Earth. He wasn't anywhere he could have ever recognized; a stark, bleak landscape, with alien galaxies revolving overhead, and green tinges to the clouds. A horrid chill of recognition came over him at the sight of the clouds, remembering that day weeks ago, when the sky had turned green.

The clarity of the dream was terrifying; he could smell the stone beneath his feet, a tainted, earthy smell, not something that could ever occur on natural ground. He felt the wind, warm, but somehow repulsive, like the breath of some monstrous creature. He noticed his shadow beneath him, watched the clouds move with the wind, and listened to noises he could not identify.

Worst of all, he could _feel_ the place. He could feel it, as if it were sentient, as if it were some great, living realm, half-feral and twisted.

He'd walked, walked forever it seemed, dread growing in his chest with every step. He'd walked until he came to a very small cleft in a great mountain, and slipped inside. He walked through the darkness, feeling his way, until he came into the feeble light once more, and gasped in horror. Before him lay a sprawling valley, full of buildings of dark stone, and right in the center was a giant palace, a palace straight from ancient China, or Japan. Spires and towers rose up towards the unnatural sky, and the dread, the horror and taint grew tenfold. A panic unlike any he'd ever felt gripped Nohano's heart, and he froze, watching the main doors of the horrid palace open.

Nohano caught only a glimpse of the..._creature_...that walked out of the doors; on two feet, clad in Asian armor, it walked like a man, but it wasn't. Nohano watched as the being turned, and they locked gazes for just a second.

And then he was awake, and screaming bloody murder.

The other four were jolted from their slumber, Gregory lurching to his feet and spinning around, half asleep, as if something were about to attack. Robert stared at Nohano and stumbled hastily to the hammock his arm around the boy, speaking in an urgent, low tone, trying to calm him. For several moments, Nohano whimpered with panic, scarcely aware that he was awake, and that Robert looked badly alarmed by Nohano's fear.

Nohano felt like sobbing and throwing up at the same time, curling into a ball and letting Robert cradle him. He couldn't speak yet, couldn't answer the man's worried queries about what he'd dreamed that was so horrible, and was he okay? No, he really wasn't okay...but once he had calmed enough to speak, he said shakily that he was.

"Nightmare," he managed, taking a big, shuddery breath and holding it for a few moments.

"The water again?"

Nohano shook his head, trying not to think about the malign land, and the horror that lived there. "Worse," he said.

Looking relieved that Nohano had calmed and apparently come to his senses, Robert still didn't let go of him just yet. "You wanna talk about it, kid?"

Nohano looked up to see the rest of the group looking at him with concern—though Manny didn't look awake enough to manage much more than a very vague sort of worriment. He finally shook his head; he definitely didn't want to talk about his dream, not in front of anyone...and maybe not at all. There was no way he could ever convey that kind of horror in words. And what made it worse was that he had the distinct intuition that it had not been just a dream. This place existed, and Nohano might just have to go there some day.

"I-I'm all right," said Nohano, getting a hold of himself and lying tiredly back down on his hammock.

The others stumbled back towards their bunks, but Robert stayed where he was, sitting on the floor next to Nohano's hammock. "I'll just stay here for a bit, kid," said Robert, smiling a little. "I remember having nightmares when I was a kid...had to go see a shrink for them, they got so bad. It helped, a little. Miserable things, aren't they?"

Yeah, that was one word for it, though a dreadful understatement. Still, Robert's concern and his presence helped. It helped enough that Nohano was able to drift back into sleep.

The dream did not come back, for which he was grateful, but he did dream of spheres and the strange gear that went with them. When he woke the next morning, he realized with horror that the two things were connected.

---

Two men walked down the streets of Pomona, California, gazing up at the sky overhead. The older man, though clearly in his twenties, had stark white hair and a patch over one blue eye. The younger man was quite unremarkable, a young man of nineteen with brown hair and eyes. They both walked nonchalantly side by side, just out for a stroll along the streets.

But something about them made people avoid them on the sidewalk, even walking into the street to avoid them. Whether it was the slyness that shone in the boy's eyes, or the unusual appearance of the older man, no one could quite say, but they were right to be wary.

Dais and Moral did not get along well together; they were far too alike. Dais dealt in illusion and deception, and Cade dealt in deception and stealth. They were both entirely too cocky, and their egos were at odds as often as they themselves. Talpa had set them this task together for this very reason; they would either learn to tolerate each other, or deal with the consequences.

As a result, both were being stiffly polite to the other as they strolled a little too casually along the street.

"Do we know where we're to go?" asked Moral after a few moments, looking up and down the street. He was more comfortable here than Dais was, being use to American cities, and having come from a time period not much earlier.

"West. That's all I know. But we're closer now than we've been in weeks, and that's a good thing."

Moral nodded his head, though he said nothing.

Talpa had learned much through his scrying, including the fact that someone from Japan had been conscripted into uniting the Ronin Warriors once more. A new group of youths, who would wear the Ronin armor. Talpa had not given up on the idea of assembling his original armor once more and imbuing it with fresh power. He could create all the new armor he wanted, but these had the power of antiquity.

Interestingly, however, he learned that this person, whoever he was, had also crafted three new set of armor for the Ronin, whose numbers would increase to eight. It was a mystic, he knew that, for he was able to shield his identity from Talpa; that meant the armor would be mystical as well. He was very interested in it.

Talpa had not gained the new youths' exact locations, but he had been able to narrow one location down; at least one of the armor orbs was in a land called California. He had called for Dais, giving him the task of locating the new Ronin and his companions. Once close he would be able to sense the orb's power, and hone in from there.

"What does he look like?" asked Moral.

Dais shook his head, scowling slightly, but not at Moral. "I don't know," he said, frustration tingeing his voice. "The master could sense his presence through his scrying screen, but could only tell it was a boy a little younger than you."

Moral scowled, also, kicking an empty can that lay on the sidewalk. "That's useful of him," he muttered.

Dais stopped, his eyes narrowed, and grabbed the youth's shirt. "Don't speak that way again of our master, until you can do better than he. Understood?"

Moral narrowed his eyes, but finally nodded, remembering the results of his last spate of defiance. "Yes, sir," he said sullenly. He didn't like it, obviously, but Dais was his superior, and defying him would get him nowhere.

Dais nodded, satisfied, and the two men walked on.

It was nighttime when Dais felt it, the slightest tinge of power, power that triggered a distant memory of Wildfire. His eye widened and he stopped Moral, who looked at him with some irritation. Both of them were weary and frustrated. "What is it?" he asked, managing to keep his tone civil.

"Power orb," said Dais, smiling. "Far from here...but whoever has it has made contact with it—its power radiates. Still yourself, reach out...you can feel it."

His irritation passing, Moral stood still and did as Dais suggested, reaching out with the mystical sense he gained from living in the Nether Realm, and caught it—a faint tingle, like a mild electrical current, that passed almost before he could feel it. "Whoa—freaky!"

"Yes—it's this way. I feel we will find him soon."

"Okay," said Moral, nodding his head slightly. "Let's go find him, then."

Dais said nothing, only led the way, setting pace considerably faster than he had been using—he could travel far faster, if he'd known exactly where he was going, but as it was, they would have to walk...and slowly close in on their target.


	6. The Storm Gathers

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 6: The Storm Gathers**

The Renaissance faire ran again that weekend, and Nohano was discomfited to realize that Friday dawned overcast and still. He nearly panicked, remembering his dream, and the clouds that had cast their appalling green tinge on the landscape. Though once the initial alarm passed, and nothing horrible happened, Nohano was able to dismiss the weather, at least temporarily. On seeing that the clouds were an ordinary gray, he calmed further.

Maybe it was just the strange weather patterns the world had been experiencing the past few years, and they had somehow influenced that nightmare. He tried very hard to convince himself of that; fooling himself had gotten him through the week without losing too much of his sanity.

During a noontime performance, Nohano nearly dropped his drum, right in the middle of a song—it was a good thing he did not sing on that song, else he would have bollocksed up the performance. And for good reason. Wandering among the fairegoers was a boy Nohano's age, with longish, blond hair, and a sort of lost expression on his face. That would not normally be remarkable, except that Nohano had seen the boy before in his dreams, swallowed up by a tsunami.

As the song ended, the blond boy turned and caught Nohano's eyes, and the blond's eyes widened with recognition. 'So,' Nohano thought, half hysterically, 'he's had dreams, too!' This was getting unreal; he had to talk to this kid.

Nohano got through the rest of the performance without making any mistakes, even though the blond kid had come to watch. Robert said that they were going to head over to the beer garden, and asked if he was going to join them or get some lunch. It was a perfect opportunity.

"I'm gonna grab some lunch," said Nohano. "I'm starving."

"Yeah," said Manny, "You really need to get some meat on those bones, Skinny."

"Yeah, thanks," said Nohano, shaking his head. He waved to the others as they headed off towards their beer, and Nohano hopped off the stage. For once they didn't have to switch stages, and so they left their equipment behind the stage itself. Nohano was glad; he didn't think he could really concentrate on moving equipment just then.

The other boy seemed to have been expecting Nohano to approach him, for he stayed where he was as the rest of the spectators left to catch other shows. For a moment, the two boys stood there looking sheepishly at the other, until Nohano spoke. "Um, hey...could I buy you a soda?"

The blond kid smiled, looking both pleased and surprised at the offer. "All right," he said. Thanks."

Nohano felt both a thrill of excitement and a jolt of terror at hearing his voice; the kid was Australian, telling him without a doubt it really was the boy from his dream. "Okay, this way—I get a discount for being a performer, too. Er, I'm Nohano."

He offered his hand as they began to walk, and the other boy took it. "Killian," he said. "Killian Zale."

Nohano's first impression was that Killian was easily likable—his tone was friendly, and his eyes shone with a sort of inner warmth. Nohano had always thought that kind of description had been reserved for novels until he saw it in person. "Well my first name's Kalama," said Nohano, "but I don't use it. Nohano sounds cooler and less like a girl's name."

Killian laughed, which Nohano was glad to hear; by the look of him, he'd not laughed in a while.

The two boys made their way to one of the food service tents, where Nohano bought himself a Mountain Dew Ultra, and Killian a cola. They sat towards the back, where most of the tables were empty. "Guess we've got a lot of talking to do, huh?" said Nohano, not quite sure how to begin.

Killian nodded, looking grim. "Yeah, I think so. See, I knew you when I saw you on the stage."

"Weird dreams?" Nohano asked tentatively, his eye on Killian's face to judge whether he'd think Nohano was insane or not.

The look of relief and recognition on the boy's face put Nohano at ease. "Yeah...yeah, definitely weird. I mean if that's what you wanna call it."

"Well, lack of a better word." Nohano laughed a little. He hesitated a moment, taking a sip of his soda to avoid having to talk, and then he reached into the pocket of his costume breeches. He pulled out his sphere, which he had taken to carrying around with him—it gave him a strange sense of security, like a good luck charm or security blanket. Most of all he wanted to note Killian's reaction.

Killian stared for a moment, then reached in his own pocket and pulled out his own little ball of swirling mist. His was sea green, or blue, Nohano couldn't tell.

"Oh boy."

Killian looked just as stunned. "Right. Well...I think there're others we've got to find."

Nohano nodded and put the orb away, glancing once around to see who might be hanging around. There was no one that seemed to be interested in them; most of the people were talking with their friends or listening to a minstrel who was sitting in the tent and playing a lute. The only one by himself was a tallish boy at the other end of the tent, but as he seemed to be watching the minstrel, Nohano was satisfied. "You know anything about what these things do?" he asked Killian, turning back around.

"A little," said Killian. "I think they all have different properties. How'd you get yours?"

"It was mailed to me," said Nohano with a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "From Japan. When I was little. When I left my foster home, they gave me the package, saying they were supposed to hand it over when I was old enough." Seeing the odd look on Killian's face, he added, "I know, I'm only just fifteen, fourteen when I left, but I'm an emancipated minor—means I have most the rights of an adult, and can legally live alone."

"Oh! Wow—that must be pretty cool," said Killian, sounding impressed. "I guess we have something like that in Australia..." He shrugged, trailing off. "Not that it matters much, now."

"I know," said Nohano quietly, feeling a strong surge of sympathy. "I catch it on the news sometimes and...well when I dreamed of you, there was fighting, and a tsunami." He winced a little at how matter-of-fact he sounded. There was nothing whatsoever matter-of-fact about the horror that had been that dream—and the reality.

Killian's eyes were wide. "Crikey," he whispered. "I don't believe it! That really happened...I got caught right in the middle of it. I thought I was dead, but..." He looked down to the orb he still held in his hands. "I think I've got some kind of...water affinity. The tsunami just washed me out to Melville Island, where I found this thing in the surf. I left Australia after that."

"And your parents?" Nohano's voice was hushed.

The boy shook his head darkly. "Dunno, mate. We got separated when the sirens went off. I hope they're alive, but...but I don't think they are."

Killian looked like he was about to cry, which made Nohano feel like he wanted to cry. Seeing others cry always affected him like that. He impulsively reached out to grasp the other boy's forearm, a tentative offer of compassion, and Killian smiled, nodding his head in thanks. "You have a place to stay?" Nohano asked.

"Well, no. It's been warm enough, I've just been ducking into alleys and whatnot." Killian rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't believe some of the garbage people'll throw out in those places."

"Well enough of that," said Nohano, grinning. "The other guys and I share a studio apartment when we're traveling, and we'll be here until the end of the faire. They won't mind a roommate."

Killian blushed, which strangely endeared him to Nohano. "No, I-I couldn't...I mean--"

"Hey." Nohano had stopped smiling, cutting Killian off before he could protest further. "Listen. You and I are, well, I think we're getting into some big stuff here. You're gonna need a safer place to stay. And if we're bunking together, we can start putting together more of this...mystery. Not to mention concentrating on finding the others. I know the guys won't mind. There's five of us already, and the area's pretty big. I couldn't just let someone stay on the streets, anyway. It's not right."

It was clear that Killian was weary of being alone, or weary of being on the streets, one of the two, because though it looked as if he wanted to protest more, he didn't. He only nodded, his cheeks still pink. "Thanks, mate."

"You got anything with you?"

"No." Nohano had the idea that Killian was normally a cheerful sort, because the weariness and sorrow on his face clearly did not belong there. Nohano felt a surge of anger for the stupid jackasses that had started a bloody war, and left the innocents to suffer in the middle of it all.

"That's no problem, I've got some extra clothing that should fit you. If you want, I could probably find some work around the faire for you if you wanted to earn a little extra money."

Killian's expression cheered a bit at the idea. "That'd be great—I could get some second-hand clothing for myself, help a little with the rent and all."

"Do what you feel you need to, it's cool. But don't worry about it today. Rent, I mean. I'll go talk to some of the faire directors, see if they've got some miscellaneous work they need done. Meanwhile, stick around us; I got another performance before lunch, then I'm free for a few hours."

"Nohano!"

Nohano turned around at Gregory's voice, and realized that the others had all returned. "What? Ya bigmouth!"

Gregory snorted. "That's rich, comin' from you. Anyway, it's almost one. Get your arse over to the stage, we're on in twenty minutes." He grinned, turning his gaze to Killian. "Friend of yours, kid?"

"Huh? Oh! Yeah, this is Killian. He's gonna hang around with us for the day, I gotta talk to the faire director, see if he's got some odd jobs."

"Likely," said Robert quietly. "He's been bitching about cleanup of late, and what pigs the fairegoers are."

Both Nohano and Killian chuckled at this. "He's right," said Nohano ruefully. "Okay, okay, I'm comin'. Come on, Killian, let's get away from these miserable losers." He shot a grin to the other members of No Quarter, dodging four fists as he sprinted outside.

After lunch and their performance, Nohano and Killian spent a couple of hours enjoying the faire and watching the other groups sing or perform their skits and shows. The two spoke of the things they liked to do, what movies they thought were lame, and the new television-restriction laws. (Nohano personally thought they were a good idea; they forbade families with children from playing NC-17 shows in their homes.)

After eating at one of the food stalls, Nohano brought his new friend to the faire director, a short, scrawny man named Phil, who wore a goatee that he thought made him look distinguished. He was a good enough man, though he had the tendency to rant and rave when he got stressed. Now was one of those times. Nohano watched the man pace the main volunteer tent for several minutes, until he caught sight of the two boys. "How long have you been standing there?" he demanded.

Only barely suppressing a grin, Nohano said, "About five minutes. It was too entertaining to interrupt."

The director narrowed his eyes, as Nohano shook with silent laughter. Then Phil sighed, rolled his eyes to the heavens, and shook his head. "Brat." But Nohano knew him well enough to know he wasn't truly angry. "What do you want?"

"Robert says you're looking to hire clean-up personnel?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Well my friend here is looking for some odd jobs. His name's Killian."

Phil's expression changed almost instantly at the idea of some more help. "Fantastic!" He came over to shake Killian's hand, while Nohano stood back and watched. "How old are you, kid?"

"Fifteen, sir," said Killian.

"Great, that's old enough for part time. But call me Phil. Come on over here and I'll have you fill out an application. Nothing much, just name and address and all that."

"Oh, he stays with us," said Nohano.

"Oh! That makes it easier. All I really need is your name, then."

Satisfied that Killian would be busy enough, Nohano touched the other boy lightly on the shoulder and said, "I gotta get outta here, before the guys skin me or something. You wanna meet up later? If Phil doesn't work you into collapse, that is."

Phil gave him a dirty look, and Killian laughed quietly. "All right," said he. "I'll see you then."

Nohano jogged back towards the main part of the faire, feeling oddly satisfied. He'd spent a long time in the company of adults, never with anyone his own age around. And Killian was a very likable person, not to mention someone with whom he could share the frightening predicament he seemed to have gotten himself into.

When he rejoined the rest of the group, he spoke quietly to Robert, saying that Killian had come from Australia, and had no place to stay. Robert expressed concern that he should probably go to Social Services, but Nohano protested, saying that the Social Services department was busy enough with younger children, and how impersonal the whole thing was. Robert couldn't really argue.

"Don't get me wrong," said Robert. "I don't mind, and I know the guys won't. Just...well he's about your age, isn't he?"

"Yep, he's fifteen."

"That's cool, I guess. You said he's getting some work around the faire?"

"Yeah, he doesn't have anything but the clothes on his back. I figure we can go to the secondhand shops and get him some clothing and maybe a bedroll. He said he'll help us move the equipment and everything, too. Hell, I had to practically twist his arm to get him to agree to stay with us."

"Well he doesn't know us, I guess I can understand. He a friend of yours from before you joined us?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Nohano winced inside at the lie; it was a small lie, and he felt a necessary one, but he still didn't like telling it. "Anyway, could I con someone into driving us around after the faire closes for the night?" He gave what he hoped was an endearing grin.

Robert gave a long-suffering sigh, but nodded his head. "Okay, okay, you convinced me. Pest." He swiped Nohano's hair so that it flopped in his eyes, then hopped up onto the stage. Nohano glanced at the gathering audience, then hopped up as well, retrieving a couple of his drums from the back. He felt better than he had all week, and was ready for some raucous music to expend his energy.

The song list was to his liking. They played a fast, if violent song called Captain Kidd, and then a song called The Clean Song, which was full of almost-cusses, that the audience seemed to like. It was one of Nohano's favorites.

He caught sight of Killian, who had been put to work cleaning out the various overflowing trash receptacles—they were less than a meter high, which Nohano always thought was stupid. No wonder they filled up so quickly.

The rest of the day went quickly enough. No Quarter played twice more, and Killian spent the day alternately doing odd jobs and enjoying the faire. Nohano's arms ached as they often did after a long day, but he was cheerful when he sought Killian out. He silently began to help him in his tasks, not wanting to just hang around and do nothing while his new friend worked. Killian said nothing, but looked as if he appreciated the help.

There were other workers and volunteers, who pitched in to clean the place up once the fairegoers had gone home, and the task wasn't as daunting as it seemed at first. When they were finished, Killian said that Phil paid his workers by the day, though Nohano already knew that.

"So I won't have to raid your wardrobe," said Killian, a half-smirk on his face.

"That's good for you," said Nohano. "I have no taste in clothing, so I've been told."

A surprised laugh came from Killian, and he shook his head. "It can't be all that bad."

"Hey, I agree with you. Anyway, Robert says he'll cart us around to some of the secondhand shops so you can get some clothing and maybe a bedroll. I've got a hammock I use, and the others use their sleeping bags, since we can't exactly cart our beds around with us everywhere."

"Why not? You could just stack 'em on the roof."

Nohano snorted. "Right. Mention that to Robert." They both laughed, and Nohano made a "come on" gesture. "We're gonna drop the others off at the apartment, then head out. Robert says he knows a place where there're about five secondhand shops within four blocks. I figure he can go have a soda or something and we can just walk."

"Sounds fun, actually. I...well, I've been traveling alone since I left Australia. It's...well it's nice to have someone you know...show me around a bit."

"You seem like a pretty good guy, Killian," said Nohano, grinning. "Not to mention the only one around here who's my age. I've never met anyone who was able to emancipate himself so young as me. I wouldn't trade it though, I love this life."

"It does look pretty fun," said Killian. "I don't think I woulda liked to leave home so early, though. If I had a choice."

A sudden snarl from behind the boys made both of them yell and jump about a foot in the air. Nohano spun around and puffed up with acute indignation on seeing Manny standing there, the snarl on his face only barely concealing his smirk.

There followed a minute long rant of indignation from Nohano, as Killian first seemed to be getting his heart rate back to normal, and then laughed quietly at Nohano's ire. Manny only listened, a look of casual interest on his face as Nohano finished, and finally started laughing, himself. "You wanker!"

Manny pretended to take offense. "Let us leave my wanker out of this." Nohano sputtered laughter. "Come on, kid, Robert says if you're not at the van in five minutes, you get to walk home."

"Hey! Tell him he can't do that." He looked to Killian and laughed. "Come on, 'cause Robert'll do what he threatens!"

Twenty minutes later, Robert had dropped off the other members of No Quarter at home, and were heading towards one of the market distracts of Irwindale. "So, kiddies, any particular preference of which store you wanna stop at?"

Nohano, who had chosen to sit in one of the back seats next to Killian rather than take the shotgun seat, gave Robert a dirty look. There were a lot of advantages to being fifteen and on one's own, but there were plenty of disadvantages as well...including so-called adults who could not stand not making at least one "kiddy" joke a week. Nohano finally rolled his eyes and laughed. "Ya know, ya gotta go to sleep sometime." At least No Quarter was good-natured about it, and truly did respect his independence. "No preference. Just start at one end of the street, I guess."

"Man, death threats," said Robert, mock sadness tingeing his voice. "You can walk home."

Nohano scoffed, but said nothing, as Robert stopped the van. "I'll keep that in mind," he said as he and Killian got out. "Seeya in about an hour?"

"Sure, kid. Have fun, you two. Don't let Nohano talk your ear off."

Killian chuckled as Robert left, and Nohano shot the other boy a long-suffering look. "See what I put up with?" he joked.

"I'm sorry for you," said Killian with a grin. "Okay, well I got forty-five bucks to spend—not bad for five hours' work." The year before, in 2092, the minimum wage had been set nationally at eight-fifty an hour; but in California, it was nine, which was a good thing; living there could get expensive.

"Not bad at all," said Nohano. "Should be plenty to get you some clothing and stuff, and have a little left over." Secondhand shops tended to be ridiculously cheap, designed for people who didn't have a whole lot of money.

The boys talked as they shopped. Killian spoke of the war, and a little about his parents and the school he'd gone to. He told how he'd swum to Asia with the help of the orb he'd found, and managed to get passage from India to the United States. "I knew I had to meet others," he said. "Something drew me to the faire. I kinda had to sneak in, since I didn't have any money."

"Hey, you work there, now. You won't have to sneak anywhere."

Killian nodded and displayed the staff pass he'd been given by Phil when he was hired, though he looked rather glum. "I felt bad, doing it though."

"Hey. You did what you had t—hey this is a cool shirt." Nohano was distracted by a bright flash of color among the boring shirts he'd been browsing, and took it out to look at it. "Nice and bright. I might get it." It had stylized flames blazing all over it in vivid oranges and reds and yellows. He showed it to Killian for an opinion.

"Obnoxious. Like fire, do you?" asked Killian amusedly, finding a dark green shirt that seemed to suit him.

"Love it," said Nohano. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not a pyromaniac or anything, but I like fire. I like how it smells, I like the warmth. While the guys are dyin' in the heat, I'm just soakin' it up like some reptile."

That seemed to amuse Killian a great deal. "Maybe you're part python."

Nohano hissed, then snickered. "Just call me ol' snake-eyes."

The boys laughed as they headed for the cashier.

As they walked to the next store, their purchases in their hands, it was Nohano's turn to talk. He told about how he'd been raised by a foster family, who agreed to let him become an emancipated minor after he auditioned with No Quarter and was accepted. He earned enough money from them, and had a small inheritance to help if he needed it. "I haven't needed it so far," he said. "I stay with the guys when we travel, and have enough for a small apartment when we don't."

He told Killian about the orb that was mailed to him, and about the strange riot gear it had formed on his body. Killian listened very closely to this. "I got the weird gear," he said. "I got it while I was swimming for Asia. After that, I found I had to concentrate on it while holding the orb, and sorta grip the orb...you said it appeared when you got angry?" Nohano nodded. "Strange...well, maybe you willed it into working. You wanted it to do something so badly."

That was an idea! Nohano decided he would try it again the next time he and Killian got some privacy. If he could figure out how to get it to work when he wanted it to, all the better!

As Nohano and Killian were finishing their shopping spree, the discussion turned then to the strange weather. Killian thought that it was the same thing causing the hurricanes that were battering his continent, and Nohano wished that he could truly agree with him; it was what he had been trying to convince himself all that week. But now, with the arrival of this boy from his dreams, well... He was taking his dreams far more seriously. Including the nightmares.

It didn't take all of an hour to finish their shopping, and when they were done, Nohano had the shirt and a pair of sneakers (his were dying), and Killian had several bags of stuff. Aside from a few shirts and pants, he had gotten a couple of books, a sleeping bag, and a small pillow. Finally, he'd ducked into a drug store nearby to get a spiral notebook and a package of ballpoint pens. "I like to write," he'd explained. "Been missing it."

The rest of the time, they just talked of their lives and the things that they enjoyed. They didn't have a whole lot in common, but they got along quite well. Nohano supposed it was the ancient saying about opposites attracting.

When they got back to the apartment, Nohano introduced Killian to the rest of the group, and they all ate a light supper. They invited Killian to play a couple of rounds of gin rummy before the other guys were ready for bed.

Killian set his sleeping bag up in the corner, next to Nohano's hammock, where they could talk if they wanted to, and not disturb the others. They didn't end up doing much talking; both of them were quite tired from the events of the day, and Nohano expected that Killian was probably relieved to have a safe place to sleep. Nohano, thankfully, did not dream that night that he remembered. 'Maybe it really was just a dream,' he thought.

How very wrong he was.


	7. First Glimpse

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 7: First Glimpse**

The weekend passed peacefully enough. Nohano sang with the group, and Killian worked for Phil, cleaning up and doing various odd jobs around the fairegrounds. The guys wouldn't let him pay rent, but Killian insisted on helping to pay for the food, which Robert relented to.

During the weekdays, a couple of the members of No Quarter had part-time jobs for their "extracurricular activities", such as bar-hopping or other various entertainments. Nohano once wondered if they'd go to a brothel, if it were legal, just like the people they sang about in their songs.

Killian and Nohano were often left alone in the apartment, giving them time to practice with their mystical gear. Once Nohano realized the gear appeared by will, not anger, he stopped screaming at it. It worked much better and saved him from a sore throat.

Killian told Nohano about some of the dreams he'd had, of the other people he was supposed to seek out, and of an old Japanese man with a strange, round, pointed hat, telling him he would have to fight.

"Fight?" said Nohano, frowning, in the middle of an odd contortion on the floor. He'd been seeing just how flexible the "riot gear" as he'd come to call it was, and looked pretty foolish as a result. "You mean like a war?"

"I think so," said Killian grimly, sitting on the floor. He had his own gear on, and Nohano had the sudden, strange thought that they could be twins from the future, dressed in some kind of weird spacesuits. "Not a war like back home, something...I dunno. Darker. Something more ancient. More like...more like the crusades, than civil wars or world wars." He shook his head worriedly. "I think we're supposed to be...not really soldiers, more like...champions. Or...I dunno. I don't even know who the blazes we're supposed to be fighting."

Nohano was silent for a moment, thinking of his nightmare, and bit his lip. He'd already met one person that he had dreamt of; he didn't know what he would do if he ever met the terrifying specter from that particular dream. "I think I know," he finally said. Taking a big breath, he described his nightmare to Killian, trying to convey why it was so horrifying, and the unnatural terror that had sunk into his spirit.

He must have done an extraordinary job of explaining, because Killian's expression was horrified. "You think this is what we have to fight?"

"I-I think so. Why else would I dream of it? Where could something like that come from? Hell, you're from one of my dreams, the idea of meeting someone else from them isn't so crazy."

"No," said Killian unhappily. "I suppose not. But...but why us? We're kids, I mean, we should both be in school! Why should we be chosen to fight this war?"

Nohano sat up normally, taking a big breath. "I don't know why us," he said at last. "Maybe it's something to do with these spheres. I mean...you said yours might be linked to water...and you survived that tsunami. You shoulda been dead, and you didn't even have your riot gear yet. Maybe we have, I dunno, powers or something."

"Powers..." Killian was silent for a moment, before looking to Nohano. "Your gear's red, so's the orb...what power could be linked to it?"

They both looked at each other for several moments, and as if they were sharing a brain, both looked at the bright, fiery shirt Nohano had bought over the weekend. The boys looked back at each other, and Nohano stood, jogging into the kitchen and wincing at the clattering his boots made on the hardwood floor. He hoped the downstairs neighbors didn't get mad. A rapid clanking told him that Killian had followed, both boys squeezing into the tiny kitchen.

The stove was gas, since gas was far cheaper than electricity, and Nohano turned one of the burners on. He looked at the blue flame for a moment, then slowly put his hand into it, turning the burner up all the way. He bit his lip, waiting for the metal to begin to get hot, and it did—but astonishingly, it never burned his skin. He held it in the flame for a good minute and a half, and felt nothing but pleasant warmth, and the sort of buzz he felt when he'd drunk a lot of Mountain Dew Ultra.

He turned to Killian, feeling his eyes bug out; Killian's eyes were wide, too. "You try it," said Nohano urgently.

Killian nodded and stuck his gauntleted hand into the fire, but jerked it away not ten seconds later with a hiss of pain, splashing his hand into the half-filled sink and sending dishwater flying everywhere. "Bloody hell!"

Nohano stared in shock, and then burst into laughter at the scene; himself with his hand over the fire, his friend with _his_ hand in the sink, both of them looking like they came from a science-fiction movie. "This is unreal," Nohano laughed, his laughter finally winding down. He looked back to the fire, sticking his hand in again. Once again, the warmth, the tingle of energy, but no pain, and when he stuck his finger in the dishwater, it hissed from the heat. "Ho-ly _shit_."

A click at the door cut the experiment short; the others were returning. A chill of alarm going through him, Nohano jerked his hand out of the fire and turned it off, closing his eyes for a moment to concentrate the riot gear off his body. When he opened his eyes again, Killian had also banished his gear, and both of them were putting the orbs in their pockets when the door opened.

"So!" Robert said as he spied them in the kitchen, looking startled. "Snitching food, eh?"

"Aw, ya caught us!" Nohano exclaimed, laughing a little nervously. "Hey, you guys took so long, I thought I was gonna starve to death. You're the one who says I need to gain weight."

"Not me!" said Robert cheerfully. "That's Manny. So anyway, what've you guys been doing? Haven't seen much of ya lately."

He winked, which meant he wasn't upset, but Nohano still felt a sudden pang of guilt. He had been spending nearly all of his free time with Killian, just glad to have a friend my own age, but he hadn't thought about the fact that he was damn near ignoring his other friends.

Something of this must have shown on his face. "Hey," said Robert, sprawling on his bedroll and grinning at him. "I'm glad to see ya enjoying yourself. I know you've mentioned being sick of us irritating adults a few times before."

Nohano had to laugh; he'd never said it quite so rudely, but he had mentioned missing being around other kids. The other faire workers and the groups that performed there were all at least eighteen, and most were in their twenties and thirties. "Thanks," he finally said. "Guess you're glad to not have me tagging along all the time, too."

"Nah," said Gregory, smirking. "We kinda miss having a punching bag."

"Hey!" Indignation replaced the guilt, and Nohano lunged at him, and it all degenerated from there into a roughhousing brawl. Even Killian joined the fray on Nohano's behalf, and the whole thing ended with everyone sprawled on the floor in undignified heaps, laughing or trying to get their breath back.

"I saw you guys ganging up on him," Killian accused good-naturedly. "Had to intervene."

Nohano shot Killian a smile. Killian had done two things with that statement; he had shown he was no longer just a friendly stranger they were helping out with lodging, and letting Nohano know he was willing to stick up for him, even in play. Killian grinned back, understanding Nohano's expression of thanks.

The next day, No Quarter rehearsed outside in the compound after breakfast, right up until lunch. They gathered a small audience as usual; people seemed to enjoy watching them rehearse, even though they often stopped in the middle of songs to work out notes or the drum parts, or the like. They had never gotten any complaints about their rehearsals, and the off-duty apartment managers would even come to watch.

That morning, Robert had invited Killian to rehearse with them if he wanted, and he agreeably took the offer, saying he had been in choir in school, and knew enough to be able to read music. Nohano handed him a few sheets of the music Gregory had arranged for the group (he was their composer), and Killian said he'd take the tenor part. He was pretty good, too! His voice wasn't as high as Nohano's, but it was clear and pleasant.

"You know," said Robert seriously, "you could actually join us if you wanted. We've been thinking of adding a sixth member to the group."

Killian blinked, obviously caught wrongfooted. "You're joking, mate."

Robert laughed. "Not at all," he said. "You sing well with us, and you can read music. Not to mention it would even up the sides in No Quarter Badminton."

Confusion clouded Killian's face, and Nohano had to explain just what No Quarter Badminton was. Of course then, they had to plan to play a match or two that afternoon, after Robert told Killian to think on the offer for a while. After a quick lunch and a round of badminton that Killian, Nohano, and Aaron spectacularly lost, Nohano asked Robert what time it was.

"About one-thirty," he said. "Why?"

"Well, Killian and I were thinking about going into town and into the library. Something different to do, and I've read my own books about a million times."

Killian shot Nohano a surprised look, but said nothing; this was the first Nohano had mentioned of it. Robert only shrugged agreeably. "Sounds like a plan. You gonna be back in time for supper?"

"We should be—what're we having, and who's cooking? That might just influence my decision."

"You—you are getting way too big for your britches, kid!" said Robert with a surprised laugh, taking a swipe at Nohano's head. Nohano ducked this time, avoiding the hand. "Just for that, you get to eat that package of Brussels sprouts Aaron got by mistake the others day."

"Bleh!" Of its own accord, Nohano's mouth twisted into a snarl of disgust. "I think I'll skip supper after all."

Once he had gotten Robert's assurance that he would not be forced to eat Brussels sprouts, Nohano said they should be back in time, and Robert headed up after the others. When he was gone, Killian gave Nohano a curious look. "You really that desperate for reading material?"

Nohano laughed a little bit. "No. I thought we'd go there and see if we could find mention of these damned things in some book...legends, or occult, or even some kind of weird...technology, or...I dunno. It's the only thing I can think of."

"That's not too bad an idea!"

"Every once in a while I came up with a decent plan,' said Nohano with a chuckle. "The library's only four blocks away, too."

"Convenient."

---

Normally, the trip to the library would have been quite unremarkable; the only thing on the way from the apartment complex to the library was a large group of other apartment complexes and a couple of convenience marts. That day, however, things got far more interesting than Nohano would have liked.

To begin with, not two blocks from home, Killian and Nohano were badly startled by a sudden snarling off to their left. A dog stood there, the hair on his back bristled up, his snout set in an angry snarl. After a moment, Nohano recognized the dog; it was a friendly mutt he'd encountered around the general area before, and he had never seen the beast so much as growl. Had he somehow gone rabid, or was he hurt?

"Hey," said Nohano softly, kneeling and extending a hand towards him. "Hey, you know me, boy."

But the dog set his ears back and his tail low, backing away as if Nohano were advancing on him with a baseball bat. Puzzled and a little unnerved, Nohano stood and backed off. Killian tried to calm the animal, too, but only succeeded on chasing it off. He looked at Nohano, plainly bothered. "That's never happened," he said. "I'm usually really good with animals."

Nohano shook his head, suddenly very uneasy. "Something weird's going on," he said. "Come on...let's get to the library. The sooner we're with other people, the better I'll feel."

That was a huge understatement; a panic that Nohano couldn't explain was growing in his chest, and he was fighting a primal urge to run. Killian apparently felt the same way, breaking into a jog down the street. A little startled, Nohano ran after him.

When the boys stopped to catch their breath, they were a block away from the library. "What the hell is going on?" Killian demanded, his tone plaintive, looking around with half wary, half angry eyes.

"I-I don't know," Nohano panted, standing up and taking a big breath. He glanced upwards and was badly scared to realize the clouds had again turned that threatening shade of green, but before he could say anything, Killian grabbed his arm.

Nohano turned, following Killian's fearful gaze until his eyes fell on two figures a few meters away. One of them, a boy maybe four year his senior, was not much to look at; his hair and eyes were brown and his face nondescript. The man standing next to him, however, was difficult to miss. He reminded Nohano of a spider, though whether because of his long, spindly fingers or his soft, white, web-like hair, Nohano didn't know. He had a patch over one eye, and the other eye shone a stark blue. He was dressed in street clothing that for some reason did not seem to suit him.

The terror Nohano felt on seeing him was the same fear he had experienced in his nightmare. The man looked directly at Killian. "Torrent," he hissed cryptically, his eye narrowing and his mouth stretching into a delighted smile. Without thinking, Nohano stepped in front of Killian and began urging him slowly backwards. The man's unsettling gaze settled on Nohano, and his grin seemed to widen. "And Wildfire."

"Let's get out of here!" Nohano whispered urgently, not taking his gaze off of the two men.

The man's laughter set Nohano's teeth on edge. "Run, little boy," the man said with a laugh, looking altogether amused. His speech was archaic, his voice low and harsh. Nohano understood his words, even though they were not in English. "You must have stolen that orb you have--Wildfire would never choose such a coward on its own!"

Nohano stopped dead, his eyes widening in sudden anger at the contemptuous insult, his hands balling into fists. "Coward! Why you," he snarled, taking a furious step forward, his wariness forgotten.

He didn't get too much father than that. Fear and astonishment in his voice, Killian sprinted in front of him and pushed him back with both hands, glancing back once at the two men, who had not moved. "Are you mad?" demanded Killian, grabbing Nohano and yanking him away from the two men. "Damn it, run!"

Nohano let Killian drag him around the corner, a second voice drifting to him. "We'll meet again, moke!" It was not the older man; it must have been the boy.

Killian had to keep Nohano from rushing back once more at the racial slur, a particularly nasty little word for Hawaiians that had survived the decades. Shaking now from fury, not fear, Nohano stood still for several moments, heat pounding behind his eyes and in his temples. He was not angry with Killian for holding him back; the two strangers terrified Nohano, too, but he was also furious at their insults, and wished he could have decked the both of them!

He turned to Killian, whose face was an alarming shade of white, and Nohano felt his anger ebb, as he grasped the other boy's arm. "Easy," he said, glancing back at where the strangers had stood. Peering around the building he and Killian had taken cover behind, he was at once alarmed and relieved to see the men were gone. He didn't like not knowing where they were, but it didn't particularly seem as if they were coming after the two boys. "They're gone."

"Who were they?" asked Killian, shaking.

Nohano shook his head, not quite able to organize his thoughts into words. "I'm not...sure. Those words he said--torrent, and wildfire--what did it mean? It was like--and he said--he said 'wildfire' would never choose a coward like--the orbs!" He looked as Killian in horror. "He knew about them!"

"Nohano," said Killian slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought. The fear seemed to be leaving his face, his color beginning to return. "Would you say a tsunami is a 'torrent'?"

"Yes," said Nohano slowly, cocking his head. "But what does that have to do with--" He cut himself off, looking to Killian's pocket, where he knew the blue sphere rested. He put a hand in his own pocket, taking the sphere out, feeling its warmth and looking at the red swirls. He thought about holding his hand in the fire on the stove, and suddenly felt as if someone had knocked all of the breath out of him. "They know about us," he whispered.

"Should we go home?"

It was tempting, so tempting. But Nohano did not think that it would matter where they were if things began happening. He looked up again at the sky, which was suddenly, frighteningly clear. "No," he said, urgency now in every cell in his body. "No, let's get to the library, quick. Whatever's going to happen is going to happen soon, and we need information."

Killian nodded, and the two boys broke into a run.

A sketch of the encounter with Dais and Moral:   
http/ 


	8. Information

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 8: Information**

Talpa was not pleased. Their progress in seeking out the Ronin was slow, and he had let his displeasure be known. While his warlords, both new and old, had never exactly sought him out, now they avoided him as much as possible. So when Dais and the boy Moral returned from their scouting mission and informed Talpa that they had information, he was not too hopeful. He expected they had perhaps narrowed down their search yet further, but found out nothing useful.

He received the both of them in his throne chamber as always, and nodded impatiently as they knelt before him. "Report."

"We've located Torrent, Master," said Dais, a pleased grin on his face. "And Wildfire."

Talpa's eyes flashed red, as he stood, looking down on Dais with sudden eagerness. "Located, Dais?" he asked quietly. "You know exactly where they are?"

"Yes, Master," said Dais, smiling yet wider. "Moral, here, I must admit was a great help. He blends in a great deal better than I do. He was searching at a local festival, and happened to spot the two of them, only just catching sight of one of the armor spheres. He reported it to me, and I caught sight of them a few days later. They're in a town called Irwindale."

Talpa laughed, the terrible sound echoing in the vast chamber. "Excellent," he hissed, clenching a fist. "You both have done well."

Moral beamed, never having earned the praise of his master before, and Dais looked inordinately self-satisfied as well. "What are your orders, Master?" Dais asked.

"Inform Kale," Talpa said. "And tell him to choose those among the lesser warlords who will best fit in among the mortals. I want an eye kept out. If the others Ronin are not there now, they will be soon. We can destroy them one by one. Did it seem as if they knew the secrets of their armor yet?"

Dais did not answer this time, instead looking to Moral, who spoke up tentatively. "I--it didn't seem so, Master," he said, his American accent sounding strange to Talpa, as it always did. "When I saw them at the faire, they seemed pretty fascinated by the spheres."

"Excellent," murmured Talpa. "Keep a watch on them, see where they live and where they go. If they run, make sure their location is kept track of. We will gather our forces and attack then, kill them before they become a threat!"

"Yes, master!" said Dais, clenching a fist in anticipation.

"Go now, then. We will attack in three days."

Dais and Moral left the chamber, grinning at each other as they did, their enmity lessened by their joint success.

Kale was outside the palace, leading a weapons drill with several of the others. Seeing the look on Dais's face, Kale signaled a stop and went to meet him, silently asking what had happened. Dais told Kale that two of the future Ronin had been identified, and that the Master planned to attack them in three days.

Kale's eyes widened, eagerness etched suddenly in his expression. "Which two?" he asked.

"Torrent and Wildfire. Two boys, perhaps fifteen years old each. From what little I saw, each was true to his element; Wildfire had a temper like a torch, and the other one avoided open conflict. I'd know them again if I saw them."

"Do you think I'll be allowed in the attack?" Moral asked.

"The master will decide that," said Kale firmly, giving the boy a stern look, silencing him effectively enough. Moral had been disciplined too often for impudence or outright defiance enough that he didn't want to risk pressing the matter. Kale turned back to Dais. "And the master's orders?"

Dais relayed Talpa's wishes, for Kale to choose some of the lesser warlords to keep an eye on the Ronin to be. "Ones who will escape notice among the mortals; we three do not easily blend in," he added ruefully.

Kale nodded in agreement, casting a critical eye over the lesser warlords. "The foreign ones will not blend in, either," he said. "I'll send four in. Moral, Cade, Heath, and Vittorio—he's foreign also, but ordinary enough to fit in." He looked at Dais and allowed himself a brief, triumphant grin. Dais knew Kale quite well enough to know that he was just as excited as Dais was, whether or not they admitted it aloud.

When Kale put a hand on Dais's shoulder and said he'd done a good job, Dais grinned back. "Moral helped," he said. "He's beginning to learn."

Kale nodded, giving Moral a sideways look. "Yes," he said. "He is. Well then. I will gather those four and give them instructions. You get together with Sekhmet and begin preparing the others for battle. Make sure they know what to expect."

"Hai," said Dais, and left the group, heading back inside the castle, where Sekhmet was likely playing with his poisons. Venom's poison weapons were vile, but Dais had to admit they were one of their biggest assets.

Sekhmet was just as excited about the upcoming battle as Kale and Dais had been; none of them had fought a battle for decades, except for the sparring that was part of their training routines. It had been years since Sekhmet could sink his poisoned blade into the flesh of an enemy, and listen to him scream. Years since Dais had used his illusions to terrify and humiliate his foes, or since Kale had cast his soul-deep, icy attack of Corruption. It would be good to get back into battle.

---

The library was nearly deserted when Killian and Nohano burst inside, panting for breath, and looking behind them as if they were expecting something horrible to be after them. Nohano, for one, did expect something horrible to chase them, and it was a great relief to learn that he was wrong. Still, the feeling that he was either being watched, followed, or about to be attacked would not leave, and he didn't like it.

He took a big breath and stopped, forcing himself to walk slowly, catching the dirty look of one of the library workers, and the odd looks the few patrons were giving him. He managed a weak smile their way before turning to Killian. "How do we even start?"

"I say we look up the terms," said Killian. "The words he used. Torrent, and Wildfire...all one word like that, it seemed. Wildfire."

"Yeah," said Nohano, looking around for a computer terminal. "Maybe spheres or orbs, too."

"There," said Killian, pointing.

The two boys crowded at the same computer terminal, and Nohano typed the terms on the keyboard. Instantly, dozens of entries sprawled across the large monitor screen, and not a one of them seemed to have anything to do with the other.

"I think the words are too vague," said Killian. "Try..." He sighed with frustration. "Try 'Wildfire Sphere', but put it in quotes."

Nohano tried that, and got a far smaller collection of books. Three of them seemed to be on some rock group in Kenya, and he was fairly sure that wasn't what they were looking for. There was a book on racing, and one on movie special effects. But none of them looked like it would be of any help with what Nohano and Killian were looking for.

"Somehow," said Killian glumly a half-hour later, after they'd found absolutely nothing, "I don't think we're going to be battling a mad special effects man."

Nohano laughed, but it was distracted and short. "Probably not. Those ones we saw today, though. I think we'll be fighting them."

Killian seemed about to reply, when he looked up, and immediately clammed up. He smacked Nohano lightly on the arm, and he, too looked up.

He saw why Killian had quieted, a girl was watching them from the next terminal, watching them with an intensity that made Nohano nervous. He thought she was Japanese, but didn't know enough about the Asian people to be able to identify the specific countries. She looked familiar, which made him uneasy. Could she be one of them? Allied with the white-haired man and his friend from earlier? 'No,' he thought, frowning as the girl stood. 'She looks even younger than I am. There wouldn't be a kid among the bad guys...would there?' Well, why not? There were kids among the good guys, why not among the bad guys?

Nohano was tense as the girl approached, but oddly enough, Killian had relaxed.

"Good afternoon," the girl said awkwardly, bowing to them.

On hearing her voice, Nohano's eyes widened in sudden recognition--she was no enemy. She was one of them.

"Hello," said Killian, smiling at the girl, imitating the bow she had given them. Nohano was not sure how to reply, but a nudge in the ribs and a "well?" gesture from Nohano made him also bow, looking awkward and a little embarrassed.

The girl's voice was soft, and it was clear that while she understood English, she did not speak it often. "Thank you for return of my custom. I heard you speak," she said to them, smiling. "You know me."

"Yeah," said Nohano, a little awkwardly. Aside from not having a whole lot of experience with other adolescents, he certainly had none in dealing with girls. "We, well I did, I dunno about Killian, but I had a dream about you." His face suddenly grew hot, hot even for him, and he hastily added, "Wait, that didn't sound right—I mean--"

Killian's snickering didn't help matters, and he shot the other boy a dirty look. But the girl did not look offended, she only chuckled softly. "I know," she said. "I have dreamt of you both."

"Guess we're in the same group, huh?" said Nohano, glad the girl hadn't made a big deal about it.

"Yes. And I have much to teach you. Perhaps we go to a place of less people?"

Killian and Nohano exchanged uncertain glances. "Guess we should," said Killian finally, glancing at the few people around them. "Hate to say it, but if those two are after us, inside or out won't matter much."

What a miserable thought. "Okay," said Nohano, biting his lip. "I know a park nearby."

The three youths were silent as they walked the streets, and Nohano figured that either the girl had had her own experiences, or Killian and Nohano's jittery paranoia was contagious. Nohano expected to be ambushed at any time by that creepy man and his friend, but when they reached the park, they had not even looked at, much less attacked.

The park was not deserted, but there were plenty of niches and pockets among the trees where they could talk. Nohano led the others two into a little place he'd found the other day, a sort of mini gorge, with a tiny stream cutting through it. There were plenty of smooth patches of soft soil, and trees obscured it all. It was a popular spot for lovers, as he had once found out by mistake, but this early in the day, there was no one there. Nohano tried not to think of what other things various lovers might have done on this same soil.

The first thing was a round of introductions. The girl's name was Amaya, a name she said meant "night rain." Nohano wondered briefly what his own name meant, but didn't waste too many brain cells in speculating.

The information that Nohano and Killian got from her was frightening. They were what were called "Ronin Warriors", a group of fighters and heroes from the legends of Japan. She said that there have been many groups of Ronin through the centuries, people who have been chosen to bear the "_yoroi_", or mystical armor. Nohano protested that, saying that he was neither a warrior, nor Japanese, so there must have been some kind of terrible mistake.

Amaya laughed softly. "No mistake," she said quietly. "Not needed to be Japanese. Have all been before, but now the fight is to be here." A horrid chill went down Nohano's spine. "But you are a warrior. Have not learned yet, maybe. But your heart is a warrior."

Nohano was not entirely convinced. He sang pirate songs at Renaissance Faires—he wouldn't know the first thing about fighting!

"You will learn," promised Amaya, still smiling. "I can teach you. But now, please listen to the story."

Nohano nodded, looking around in case someone was deciding to eavesdrop, then turning his attention back to the girl.

He did not interrupt again, but with each word the girl spoke, his chest seemed to get tighter. She described a demon lord and a "Nether Realm" that sounded terrifyingly close to his nightmare, and to Nohano's horror, Amaya said it was indeed he that they would fight.

"He seek to rule this earth," said Amaya, frowning. "We are only ones who can stop it."

Nohano stared at her, unable to speak. They were the only ones who could stop it? Them? A group of people whose oldest member was not out of his teens and whose youngest couldn't be more than ten? Unless the others showed some extraordinary powers or skills, Nohano couldn't see how it was possible! Maybe the girl was wrong—maybe she was just crazy! It was so fantastic, so dire and unbelievable. But...

Nohano reached into his pocket and drew out his sphere, gazing at the red swirls within, and started to shake. Mystical armor—of course it wasn't riot gear, it was armor! 'I'm no warrior!' he thought desperately. 'I'm no warrior, and I'm no hero! I can't save the earth, not even with help!'

"You have the Wildfire armor," said Amaya, her smile widening. "You bear the armor my ancestor bore."

Oh, perfect, that was just peachy. As if he hadn't enough to think about, now he had someone's honored ancestor to live up to! "But he was an adult," said Nohano, his voice surprisingly steady.

A laugh was surprised out of Amaya, and she looked at Nohano with mild amazement. "Why you say that?" she asked. "When first he fought the Dynasty, he was fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Nohano sputtered in disbelief. "Fourteen—but—but was he, I mean, did he know he was a-a Ronin Warrior?"

"Not at first," said Amaya, her eyes shining with amusement at Nohano's astonishment. "The man who gave my armor said the armor must be discovered. It form a bond with the one to bear it. Only certain ones can bear each armor, and the armor must fit with that one."

"So it's almost sentient," said Killian softly, gazing down at his own sphere. Nohano had almost forgotten he was there. "Your mind's got to be one with it, form a relationship, for it to be able to work with you."

Amaya smiled. "Yes!"

"It makes sense," said Killian, putting the sphere back into his pocket. "I've always loved the water. Learned to swim as an infant, on my own, and my mum and dad..." Killian stopped talking abruptly, his jaw clenching. Nohano bit his lip and put a tentative arm around him. "Can't believe I forgot them," whispered Killian in horrified astonishment. "Can't believe I forgot that I don't even know if they're alive!"

"A lot's happened," said Nohano quietly. "The human mind can only handle so much at a time."

Killian said nothing, and Nohano glanced at Amaya, hoping she wasn't offended at being ignored all of a sudden, but her gaze showed nothing but sympathy. "Am sorry," she said softly.

Killian managed to nod, ducking his head to swipe angrily at his eyes. Nohano kept his arm around him until Killian straightened up again, taking in a big breath. "That kinda thing catches you by surprise sometimes," he said unhappily.

"Yeah, it does," said Nohano, frowning then looking back up to their new ally. "Amaya...does this...Ronin legend...mention anyone else but the demon dude?"

By the brief frown that flashed across Amaya's face, Nohano guessed that "dude" hadn't translated too well. "No," she said. "But it say of warlords, who have other armors, that are very like animals."

Nohano wondered briefly if she meant the warlords were like animals, or their armor was. But then he remembered the impression he'd gotten from the older man, the impression of a spider, and felt as if someone had punched him. How could he not have made the connection? The feeling he got from them, how they'd known the name of his sphere before he did, and how it was clear that they were not on the same side—how could he have not known he was from the nightmare realm he'd dreamt of? "We met one," he said, turning his gaze back to Amaya. "Two, really, but I didn't notice much of the younger one."

Her expression suddenly intense, Amaya asked him to tell her of the encounter.

Nohano and Killian related the story of what had happened on their way to the library, of how the man had identified them and taunted Nohano, and of how they had left. Nohano mentioned the clouds and the sick, greenish cast they shed on the landscape, and Amaya took a big breath. "They are close to attack, I think," she finally said, running a nervous hand through her hair.

She'd seemed to confident a moment before, it was odd to see this sign of unease; though Nohano should have realized she would be intimidated by the whole thing, too. Daughter of a Ronin or not, she wasn't much older than Nohano was. He asked her age. "We're both fifteen," he said, indicating Killian.

"I am fourteen," said Amaya.

Nohano did not have high hopes for the world. "You said you had things to teach us...did you mean this information?"

"Part," said Amaya. "But I have learn to fight since being a child. If you do not know how to fight, I can teach you."

Fighting lessons? It wasn't something that had ever occurred to Nohano; he had no particular interest in martial arts or firearms or anything like that. But if all of this was going to happen to him, if he had no choice but to fight to save the earth... "Yeah," he said finally, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath. "Yes, please...I think...I think that I don't have a choice. I don't know the first thing about warfare, and if..."

"I think we'll both be needing lessons," said Killian grimly. "But what of the others we're to join up with? Are we supposed to be looking for them?"

"I don't think so," said Nohano. "I don't know for sure...we can't, though. We don't know where to start."

"The way will show," said Amaya, standing.

The boys stood also, and Nohano glanced at his watch, wincing. "It's a lot later than I had expected; Robert's gonna be wondering about us. Amaya, do you want to meet here tomorrow? We can exchange contact information, and work on planning, or...or whatever it is we're supposed to be doing?"

"A good idea," said Amaya. "Perhaps one after noon?"

"One in the afternoon?" clarified Nohano. "Yeah, that'd work. We got rehearsal in the morning, anyway." He smiled at Amaya, and after a moment extended his hand. She obviously knew of Western customs, for she grasped it and gave it a gentle shake.

"Thanks for telling us all that," said Killian. "Me and Nohano were kinda in the dark about it all." He cocked his head. "What sphere do you have?"

Amaya pulled a dark orb from her pocket, an orb so dark blue it was nearly black. "Night," she said. "I know not what it can do yet, I can only summon my armor."

At the blank looks both Killian and Nohano gave her, Amaya explained that the "riot gear" they'd figured out how to use was not the armor itself. It was a sort of sub-gear, a protective suit that was the base for the real armor, which was far more protective. It also gave the bearer a weapon to use, and powers beyond those of normal humans.

"How do we get that to show up?" asked Nohano, frowning.

"For me, I must stand in the night. But it can be called any time by its name. I do not know the name of mine. I have tried 'night', in Japanese, but it not right. I think we will know the names when we need to."

"For now, maybe we should concentrating on getting ready for this bloody battle," said Killian, looking strangely angry. "And it's not gonna be just a battle, is it? It's a whole, bloody war. Just like Australia. Just another war."

"Yes," said Amaya, her tone at its softest. "Always are those who will attack others."

"Always," Nohano agreed glumly. "Well...guess we'll see you tomorrow. Some spot here, right?"

Amaya nodded. "Be careful. If the demon's warlords have seen you, you must be on guard for them. If the clouds come again, if you feel when you feel near them, be ready." Nohano agreed, though he didn't know what he could do if he was attacked. The mere idea scared the hell out of him.

The three youths parted, Killian and Nohano headed back home, and Amaya departing to wherever she was staying.

They made it back just in time for supper, earning some teasing from the guys about being fashionably late. Nohano made himself joke and laugh along with the others, but his mind was on the Dynasty, as Amaya had called it. Weapons, demons, magic, warlords... It was almost too much for a sane mind to handle. 'Guess it's a good thing I'm insane,' he thought wryly. 'And if I wasn't, I'd be by now!'


	9. Convergence

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 9: Convergence**

The next day, Killian and Nohano met Amaya again in the park, and she said she wanted to begin their fighting lessons as quickly as possible. They scouted out a parking lot behind a building that had once been a supermarket, but now had a ragged "FOR LEASE" sign hanging from its front wall. Its windows were boarded up and the place looked as if it had been deserted for at least five years.

The parking lot was plenty large enough for the three to move around as needed, and was mostly shielded from prying eyes. "I teach basic things first," said Amaya. She didn't seem as if she was accustomed to teaching, awkward and disorganized. 'That's okay,' thought Nohano. 'I'm not used to fighting, so we're even.'

What Amaya began schooling the boys on at first was not distinctly "karateish", as Nohano would have put it. She taught them punches such as jabs and hooks and uppercuts, things that Nohano would have expected to see in a boxing match. Still, he never knew there was so much to pay attention to just to punch a guy out. You had to make a fist right, you had to hit with the right part of the hand, and you had to have your arm in the right position... It made sense once it was explained, but it was a lot to remember.

Doing it, however, was tough. And Nohano was beginning not to like the girl so much as the lesson progressed. Amaya was not a patient teacher, and would often huff in exasperation when Nohano got something wrong, or asked why he had to do something a certain way. It was clear she was not used to questioning things, and Nohano questioned everything. The two traits did not mesh well together.

Even Killian was beginning to get frustrated. He was no weakling, but he was just as inexperienced with fighting as Nohano, and far less inclined to fight to begin with.

"Why you ask 'why' all the time?" Amaya finally demanded, stepping back to glared in frustration at Nohano. "You cannot just do the thing?"

Angry at being talked to like that, no less from some girl a year younger than he was, Nohano scowled right back. "No! I can't do something if I don't know why, because it doesn't make any sense! I like to understand things when I do them, or it's pointless to me."

Amaya took a big breath, as if Nohano had just deeply offended her. "In tradition, a student would never to question the teacher."

Mightily irritated at what he considered a demeaning comment, Nohano narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to tell the girl off, when Killian stepped between them. "We're not a part of your tradition, Amaya," he said calmly. "It's not our way. Everyone learns in different ways. Perhaps you could keep that in mind when teaching us, instead of behaving as if we're clueless sods who don't know anything."

Nohano backed off a step, calming himself down, as Killian talked to the girl. He was gratified to see a sudden, faint blush cover Amaya's cheeks. It was true, though, Amaya had a very condescending way about her, that seemed to come out when she was teaching the fighting styles she knew so well. As if her knowledge of fighting and Japanese tradition made her...superior or something.

"I...did not mean to make you think this," said Amaya, bowing in apology, and Nohano thought a little differently about his harsh thoughts.

Killian grinned. "It's all right. Just try and be patient, will you? Besides, isn't it better for us to understand what we're doing, rather than just doing it blindly like some overgrown puppets?"

This interesting comparison made both Amaya and Nohano laugh, effectively defusing the whole situation. Nohano looked at his friend in admiration, grinning at the pleased look on the blond boy's face.

"Yes," said Amaya. "I can be patient."

The lesson went far more smoothly from then on out. Amaya was still awkward, and prone to being impatient with her students, but there was no more of the outright contempt if Killian didn't hold his hand right, or Nohano asked why how you stood made a difference when using your hands to hit.

Once Amaya had run the boys through the basics, she set them to practicing while she ran through her own exercises. Nohano stopped his shadowboxing to watch her, amazed at the grace and power she displayed, even just in practice. Her style was more traditional, though Nohano recognized the same things she had just run them through, and included kicks and leaps and other things that weren't as easy to describe.

"I learn sword, also," Amaya explained when she caught the boys both watching her. "Have learned since I was five."

"Guess we've got some catching up to do," said Killian with a laugh.

Amaya laughed, dropping her formal facade for a moment. "A little," she agreed with a grin. "I will teach you sword work also if you want. But you will not catch up fast without practice!"

This was a not-so-subtle hint for them to stop staring and get on with their own practice. Nohano stopped and turned to Killian, shrugging. "Guess we better. If we don't, she's liable to use those moves on _us_."

Amaya laughed again, and soon the three of them had all continued practicing their moves. Their enmity was forgotten for the time being.

Three hours later, Nohano decided that he was never going to stand up again. He and Killian both lay on the floor of the apartment, taking turns complaining about how sore they were. After punches, Amaya had taken them through some basic kicks, and a body throw that she'd demonstrated on each of them in turn. Even though she'd greatly lessened their impact with the ground, it still hurt!

She hadn't kept them going constantly for the entire three hours—during the breaks they talked of themselves and of the Ronin Warriors, and exchanged ideas about how to work the armor. Killian came up with the idea that not only did they need to learn the name of their armor and have the force of mind to call it when it was needed, but they had to develop enough of a relationship with the spirit of the armor that it was comfortable enough to be worn.

"Ya know," said Nohano. "We should wear that riot gear when we do that crap. Then it won't hurt when she throws us all over the place."

"That's an idea!" said Killian. "Hell, if we're gonna be fighting in it, we should get used to it. We can put the idea to Amaya when we see her next." After a minute's worth of silence, Killian commented, "You know, those mystical abilities...they can't all be just from wearing this armor. I shoulda been dead when that tsunami hit. But I wasn't. I took to swimming by instinct; I never did take lessons, even though my parents suggested it. I knew I didn't need 'em. And you, well, I'm sure you've probably never tried walking into an inferno, but you like insane, blazing-hot days."

Nohano laughed. "Yeah, that's true, I guess. It wrings everyone else out, but it just makes me hyper. Hmm. Can't say I've ever been burned by anything, either. I can walk barefoot on hottop in the middle of summer. It's just...normal for me. It never occurred that it might be some kind of magical ability." Nohano sat up then, looking down on Killian with sudden uncertainty. "Do you really think we can do this, Killian? I mean...I mean jeez! What Amaya was talking about, and the dream I had, and those two creepy dudes--"

Killian also sat up, his expression grim. "Can't see a way out of it," he said. "We could run, but--" He smiled, seeing the furious look that crossed Nohano's face, and added, "—but that's not an option. All we can do is prepare."

They didn't get the chance to talk any more that night, when the guys returned one by one from their nighttime activities. 'This is gonna be rough,' thought Nohano. 'If we get deep enough in this, I'm either gonna have to tell the guys or quit No Quarter.' And the idea of quitting the group he loved made him feel cold.

The next day was Friday, a faire day, and Amaya met Nohano and Killian there. "I want to be nearby just in case," she'd said to them. "I think we must get used to being near one another. For when things happen."

Nohano certainly didn't argue, especially since she knew far more about fighting than either of the boys did. He managed to get her a weekend pass to the faire, thinking it wasn't right for her to have to pay to get in when she was there to help.

In between performances, Amaya spent the time teaching Nohano, and Killian when he wasn't tending to his faire clean-up duties. The Australian boy had decided he did want to join No Quarter, but he was still working with Phil, and wasn't ready to start performing yet, anyway.

The evening passed peaceably enough, though Nohano and Killian were both sorer than they'd ever been. Between the vigorous workout of performing on stage and the practicing in between, Nohano thought his arms might fall off. "It'll grow some muscles though," he said to Killian, who was complaining of similar aches. "More muscles in my case."

"Maybe," said Killian with a snort. "If my arms don't drop off in a rubbish bin first." Nohano would have laughed, but he knew how Killian felt.

Saturday went just as smoothly as Friday had. No Quarter didn't perform until the afternoon, and so the two boys spent the morning practicing with Amaya. Already in good shape, Nohano quickly began going far longer sparring before getting tired, and that the most basic moves were becoming easier and easier to execute. He even managed to block one of Amaya's punches, which he'd not been able to do before. As they trained more and more it was easier for Amaya to be patient with her peers, and for the boys to accept her rigid tradition a little more graciously. Their personal skills with each other still needed work, but they were getting better.

Nohano and Killian went home that night feeling content, and spent the evening in informal singing practice with the rest of the guys, with Killian beginning to learn their songs. Gregory wrote in a tenor part for Killian that complemented Nohano's alto, and the boys sounded well together.

On Sunday, all hell broke loose.

---

Xander Black walked wearily along a tall, wooden fence, cocking his head to listen to the sounds of merrymaking within. The surrounding fields and dirt parking lots were filled with cars, and people in strange garb milled about, laughing and talking about singing groups and reenactments. Xander Black had never been to a Renaissance Faire before, and after having traveled across the entire country by himself, he really didn't feel like checking it out, no matter how curious he was. Still, a strange sort of compulsion made him go up to the gate anyway, and purchase a ticket. He'd been doing odd jobs during his trip across the United States, and had enough to spare.

The men at the gate, dressed as court fools, obnoxiously teased Xander about his "strange" clothing, asking if he was a demon or some kind of heretic. He looked down at himself and realized that nearly everyone inside was wearing period garb, or some other kind of costume. He was amazed to hear himself laugh, and bantered back, claiming that he had stolen the clothing from a crazy old bloke in the next town, and wore them because they were unique.

One of the fools guffawed and clapped Xander on the shoulder. "Aye, yer a good lad!" he exclaimed, waving him on in. "Take care and enjoy!"

"I will, thanks!"

Xander walked into the sprawling area, confronted at once by the smells of a dozen different strange foods, and the raucous noises of people enjoying themselves. A group of three ladies was singing on a nearby makeshift stage, a minstrel wandered about with a lute, strumming his instrument and pretending to leer at the ladies, and a group of guys on a larger stage were belting out some kind of sea shanty. A teenaged boy in a peasant's costume was emptying trash barrels, and to Xander's right, several volunteers were handing out maps of the compound and taking submissions for the costume contest.

Xander had no idea why he had been drawn to this place, but once there he was glad he'd come across it. It had been a long, lonely, miserable few months, and he truly needed some fun.

--

A 2086 Toyota Cyclone spend down Interstate fifteen, keeping pace with the dozens of other cars that used the highway, traveling southwest into the city of Pomona. To the casual observer, the car was quite unremarkable, but the two people who sat inside were anything but normal.

Tarun and Suisei rode in the Toyota, traveling from Chicago, where they had lived for the past several months. With Tarun's help, Suisei had finally managed to learn where they needed to go to meet the six others whose fate they would share.

The months had been busy ones. Tarun, who'd had far longer to experiment, had discovered several of his sphere's secrets, teaching Suisei what he knew. Since then, after disturbing dreams and a bit of background research, the pair had begun making their way towards the west coast.

"Is this the right city?" asked Tarun, bouncing up and down in his seat.

"No," said Suisei patiently, deftly piloting the car into the other lane, between a van and an eighteen-wheeler. "There's another highway we need to get on nearby, though. The city we're going to is called Irwindale."

Tarun giggled. "That's a funny name for a town." He had said the same thing for several of the other towns they had passed, so Suisei wasn't too surprised. He had also resigned himself to the fact that any kind of travel in an enclosed vehicle with Tarun was going to be mildly nerve-wracking, because it the kid jumped around and fidgeted, even strapped in with a seat belt.

Still, he sympathized with Tarun. They'd been traveling for two days straight, and even Suisei was getting sick of the damned vehicle. But he wanted to get to Irwindale as quickly as possible, his dreams had taken on a distinct sense of urgency. Something was going to happen, and he and Tarun needed to be there when it did.

They were only a half-hour away from the city, which was a relief to them both. Tarun, because he wanted quite badly to be out of the car, and Suisei, because the sooner they met the others, the better.

As they sped past Victorville and Hesperia, and the dozens of tiny towns around and between them, the weather began to worsen, and even Tarun watched the sky in apprehension. Suisei nudged the Cyclone up until the speedometer hovered just below the one-hundred mile an hour speed limit. That afternoon. They had to be there that afternoon.

---

Coming from the opposite side of Irwindale, a Greyhound bus barreled up I-605, the two rearmost seats occupied by a husky albino boy and a determined looking girl from the Middle East. Rashida and Demetrius were quiet, grim, feeling the growing dread that blanketed the area. Demetrius held his translator in his hand, but was not using it; neither of them felt much like speaking.

When the bus reached Irwindale, and its passengers disembarked at the bus station, Demetrius asked Rashida if she knew where they had to go.

"I know," said Rashida, and Demetrius understood her without the help of the translator. Over the past weeks, each had begun to understand the others' language in a very basic way, enough to make conversation a little less of an ordeal. Sometimes, it seemed as though they hardly needed to talk at all, but they still knew what the other was saying. It was an advantage of traveling together for so long.

"Where?"

"I only know the direction...but it's not far." As strange, dark lightning flashed in the distance, Rashida's eyes widened. "It's there."


	10. The Storm Breaks

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 10: The Storm Breaks**

No Quarter was in the middle of singing "What Do We Do With a Drunken Sailor" when the clouds rolled in. It was swift, as if the winds above were blowing in a hurricane gale, but once overhead, the clouds just hovered there, still. Something in Nohano's chest seemed to jolt around as he looked up, only barely remembering to keep singing. The last thing he wanted to do was to draw attention to himself. 'Don't panic,' he thought to himself. 'It's done this before, it's just...just weird weather.'

The song ended as a green tinge fell over the area, and even the fairegoers began looking apprehensively up into the sky. Nohano looked to Robert, who frowned, and then shrugged. "Keep playing, I guess, unless the tornado sirens go off."

"Okay," said Nohano, but he had a horrible feeling. He glanced out quickly, wanting to locate Amaya and Killian, and spotted them both nearby. Good. He didn't want to have to go looking for them if—or when--something happened.

Nohano discarded his hand-held drum for the big floor one, rolling it out and setting it upright. On Robert's signal, Nohano started the deep, driving backbeat that began an ominous song about a pirate named Bartholomew Roberts. Later, Nohano would think it was apt in an awful way that they sing that song, which was full of violence and death, and that the last name of the pirate was horribly foreboding.

Gregory had only just begun the first verse, when the lightning began to arc overhead. It glowed reddish, unlike any lightning Nohano had ever seen. He'd seen purple, green, even deep pink before, but he had never seen red lightning aside from on a movie screen. The spectators below were beginning to grow restless, paying less attention to the acts, and looking nervously around for their companions and families. Parents began to lead children towards the exits or the cover of the nearby community center.

Lightning suddenly struck the ground among the spectators, nearly blinding Nohano, and he staggered back, knocking his drum over. Robert yelled and recoiled, and the other guys in No Quarter had taken several steps backwards, their expression astonished. All acts stopped, and several screams came from the fairegoers and volunteers.

A man stood where the lightning had struck, a man in dark, animalistic armor, a helmet and mask obscuring his features. Nohano opened his eyes, his chest tight with fear, staring at the man. The fear spiked at several more flashes, each revealing armored figures with deadly-looking weapons in their hands or on their backs. "Oh...my...God," Nohano uttered slowly. His eyes darted out to where Killian stood by one of the trash cans, looking as terrified as Nohano felt, then to Amaya, whose eyes were wide with both fear and recognition. Nohano realized with growing horror that these were the Dynasty.

For a space of ten seconds, no one moved, not even the specters that had appeared among them. One of them, dressed in glaring, pinkish armor, looked about, his masked visage turning towards the stage where No Quarter had been performing. Nohano's heart leapt into his chest as the figure pointed right at him. "The boy!" the figure called, his muffled voice eerily familiar. "That stage, the boy, he's Wildfire!"

Nohano bolted in fear, leaping off the stage and sprinting away from the area. The one who'd spoken snarled, "Get him! And that one, that one there, he's Torrent!" 'Oh, God,' Nohano thought, 'We're gonna die.'

The faire erupted into chaos. Nohano glanced behind him once to catch sight of one of the Dynasty people leveling a gun of some kind at him; with a yell of alarm, he dove off to one side, only barely avoiding a laser bolt, which hit a nearby tent, setting it aflame. He stared at it for only a second before taking off in another direction; citizens weren't even allowed to have laser weapons! Amaya had said the Dynasty were old, immortals from centuries before! How the hell did they have a laser weapon?

He darted into the maze of permanent buildings and temporary vendor stalls, thanking the powers that he knew the faire inside and out.; he had that advantage at least. He ducked in and between the stalls and tents, crouching down behind the main stage, shaking from head to foot and trying desperately to catch his breath. His temples pounded with heat as he took in air, forcing himself to calm down.

"Damn it!" he hissed. Once the panic eased, Nohano began to realize that the wretch with the laser pistol had been about to shoot him in the back! The coward!

He crept to the edge of the stage and peered out at the main area. Only a few of the Dynasty warriors were left in that area, wrecking the booths, sending crafts and medieval weaponry everywhere. The few people left were fleeing in terror, and as the stalls were knocked down or set afire, their occupants had to run. It was clear the warlords were searching for someone. For Killian and him.

The only thing Nohano could see through the attackers' masks were their eyes, eyes that shone with amusement, even excitement and satisfaction. They liked the fear, they liked the pain they were causing! Shaking, now with building rage as well as fear, Nohano stood—he didn't know what he could do, but if he could do anything—

Suddenly he felt like the world's biggest idiot. The riot gear! Sub-armor, as Amaya had called it. He jammed his hands into his costume pocket, panicking for a moment when he encountered only cloth and a small hole. Then he remembered he'd switched pockets because of the hole, and grabbed the blazing orb. He closed his hands over it, concentrating, and felt the light, flexible gear coating his body. It was weird, like being engulfed by fire. Maybe it wasn't the full armor, as Amaya had said the other day, but certainly it would give him more protection than his tunic and breeches.

As he stepped out from behind the stage, he realized an awful truth; they weren't just attacking Nohano and Killian. Nohano didn't see either him or Amaya anywhere, but he saw at least three people lying on the ground, not moving—innocent bystanders. The nearest one he saw was not breathing. "Bastards," he whispered, staring in horror. He suddenly wished he had a weapon of his own—a gun, a sword, even a club—anything he could use against the craven wretches who were turning their weapons on unarmed citizens!

Adrenaline burst through his system as he sprinted from his hiding place, streaking towards the nearest of the armored attackers. The man, whose armor looked like a snake, had cornered a girl of maybe eight years. The little girl was shrieking, and he could see that her arm was bloody. The warrior had some kind of whip in his hand, that when he neared, Nohano could see it was a chain of katana, or some damned thing! The man laughed, raising the weapon to strike the child down, and a blaze of fury obliterated everything else in Nohano's mind.

"Leave her alone, asshole!" he snarled, and the snake-man spun around, his strange eyes widening for just a moment in surprise behind the mask. He raised his impossible weapon, but Nohano was already there, tackling the man around the waist.

The snake-man hissed furiously as they landed, and brought a gauntleted fist up to strike Nohano hard in the face. Nohano yelled, half-stunned by the blow, and managed to duck a second punch. "You'll suffer for that!" the snake-man snarled, his eyes seeming to shine with both hatred and glee. Whatever else this bastard might say, he was enjoying the fight.

The snake-man shifted his weight, throwing Nohano off of him, and Nohano rolled over, scrambling to his feet. He ducked behind a vendor's booth as the snake-man snapped his sword-chain at him, and Nohano was uneased to see that the sword-chain made a smoking cut in the wood, as if it were coated in acid. He took a quick look at where the little girl had been, but did not see her anywhere. Satisfied she had gotten somewhere safe, Nohano ran once more, catching sight of two others approaching. He'd barely gotten away from a fight with one of them; there was no way he could fight three!

As he ran, he searched anxiously for Amaya and Killian, knowing they'd been caught in the open, too. Amaya he wasn't so worried about; the bad guys didn't know about her. But he'd heard them pointing out Killian, who couldn't fight any better than Nohano could. He didn't know what he'd do if Killian had been hurt; he hadn't realized how close he and the other boy had gotten, until now, the horrid worry settling on his chest.

When he did find Killian, he very nearly knocked the Australian boy over; they'd run straight at each other among the chaos. Nohano, not realizing at first who it was, stopped short and drew a fist back, before realizing the startled green eyes belonged to his friend. "Killian!" He moved forward and embraced the other boy, who returned the gesture, though only for a brief moment. They were still in the danger zone, only just out of sight of the Dynasty warriors.

"What do we do?" Killian cried, looking around as if the world were exploding about him.

"I-I dunno! Where's Amaya?"

"I dunno, we scattered, and then that—that bloke we saw the other day pointed me out, and I had to run, too—I think she's okay." Killian was talking very quickly. "They don't know about her yet, and she said her armor's a new one, so they might not even realize she's one, but she can't do anything about all this—can she?"

The sudden roar of a fire nearby prevented Nohano from answering—the wooden building not three meters from where they stood had caught fire, burning as if it had been doused in gasoline. Killian recoiled from the heat, retreating several steps, gesturing for Nohano to follow him. Though the heat was not threatening to him, Nohano was about to follow when he heard a frightened shriek from inside.

There were people trapped in there.

"Shit," Nohano hissed, sprinting towards the building, one of the many permanent structures on the fairegrounds. It wasn't a big building, containing only a water fountain, some bathrooms, and a first-aid room—Nohano hoped there weren't many people inside!

It didn't occur to him to fear the fire, or what might happen if the wooden building collapsed with him in it. He didn't stop when he heard Killian's voice cry, "Nohano, no!"; he only dashed in, bursting through the open door, which hung in flames from its hinges.

For a moment, all Nohano could hear was the crackling of flames, but somehow he wasn't scared. On the contrary, the minor injuries he'd gotten fighting seemed to fade out, and a surge of energy coursed through his body. His unprotected head was not scorched by the heat, and he laughed in delighted amazement.

He suddenly staggered, the light weight of the riot gear somehow increasing, and he felt something else covering his body—something that melded with the sub-armor. But it was more than that. It didn't just meld with his armor, or even his body—it seemed to be entwining around his very spirit.

He stood in shock, but only for a second. A harsh coughing sound and a weak cry for help shook him out of his surprise, and he began searching the small building.

Only three people had gotten caught inside, trapped by a fallen, burning support beam, and they looked like they were faire volunteers. He ran up to them, wondering for a moment why they shrank back in fear. He didn't have time to be polite. "Follow me, damn it, this is all gonna come down! Take my hands!" He didn't understand how, but he somehow knew that if he held them close to him, whatever was protecting him from the flames would also shield them, at least long enough to get out of the building.

One of the two women reacted first, lurching to her feet and grabbing Nohano's arm. The others followed suit the next second, the man crying out as the wall they'd been crouched against collapsed. His cry turned into a coughing fit—Nohano held his own breath. He didn't know just how many aspects of fire he was immune to.

He tried to shield the people as best he could, ushering them through the flames, leading them out of the doorway—now without its door. Once in the open air, he gave the people a little shove, yelling for them to get clear, to find cover. They did, one woman waving her thanks at him as she helped her friend stagger away, and the man reeled off in the opposite direction.

Nohano ducked out of the way as something in the building _kachunked_, and began to collapse entirely. He sprinted back to where Killian stood, staring at him in astonishment. "How'd you do it?" he demanded, awestruck.

At first he had no idea what Killian meant, unless he meant avoiding being burned. Nohano was shaking with strange energy, about crazy with fear and anger and exhilaration. Armored warriors from a demon realm, who had powers beyond anything Nohano could understand, were trying to kill him, and he had just walked into a burning building and wasn't even sweating. Things couldn't get any crazier--or so he thought.

"You got your full armor! Crikey, you look like a Japanese airplane!"

Nohano stared. "I _what_?" The first words to register were that he'd gotten his armor; the second was that he looked like a Japanese airplane. For just a moment, he forgot about his attackers as he looked down. Killian was right—his sub-armor had somehow expanded, or grown parts. Spikes on his knees, more padding and protection—and on each shoulder, a double set of wings. He also realized his head and most of his face were covered in some kind of battle helmet that seriously diminished his peripheral vision. "An airplane—what in the blue hells—I don't know how! I just walked into the fire, and wanted to rescue those people, and something weird happened!"

The sudden clang of metal and a furious yell made them both realize they needed to be doing anything but standing around and talking. "We'll figure it out later," said Killian. "We gotta find Amaya and get the hell out of here."

They didn't get the chance. Nohano and Killian hadn't gotten ten paces before two of the Dynasty warriors landed before them, as if they'd flown, or leapt. One was the snake-man, another looked wolfish. A third figure ran up, a smaller figure that could have been a boy or a woman. When she spoke, her voice was feminine, but cruel and mocking. "Nowhere else to run, little flame?" she said to him, a pair of Oriental swords in her hand. "I see you've stumbled into your armor—I suppose you can use those swords on your back?"

He had swords on his back? Nohano felt his face burn in humiliation as he realized the woman was right—he _didn't_ know how to use the swords. He hadn't even known the stupid things were there!

"He's certainly eager to fight, for not knowing anything about it," laughed the snake-man, his voice deep and harsh, and Nohano clenched his fists.

"Right," said Killian, sounding scared, but just as indignant as Nohano. "Just like you're so brave you gotta have two of your mates with you to attack two boys!"

Nohano could have cheered, but it was clear it hadn't been the wisest thing to say in the situation. The snake-man hissed, even _sounding_ like an angry snake, and lunged at Killian with two katana in his hands. Nohano yelled and tackled Killian away, hoping that his newfound armor was strong.

He yelled again as the swords both struck him in the back, feeling pressure and force, but no pain. Yet. The woman and the wolfish man lunged for the boys also, who only barely managed to dodge, rolling away from each other along the ground.

Something hard struck Nohano in the side of his head, knocking the helmet off, and he reeled to the side. Had he not already been on the ground, he'd have fallen from the stunning blow; the wolf-man had some kind of longsword in his hands, moving so fast Nohano could barely catch sight of him.

Nohano yelled in alarm as something grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, sending him sprawling on his back on the ground. He had only a moment to react as he caught sight of Killian busy fighting the snake-man, and the other one's sword descending at Nohano's unprotected head. He had only time for fear, and a half-coherent thought that he'd failed before he'd even begun.

No Quarter, playing before the attack. From left to right are Gregory, Manny, Nohano, Robert, and Aaron.  
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	11. Into the Fray

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 11: Into the Fray**

The world went gray. For just a moment, Nohano was convinced he was dead; how could he not be? The man with the wolfish armor, the one who moved too fast to react to was attacking him, with him half-pinned on the ground. But he wasn't dead, and all he could see was a strange, gray fog, a fog that had no moisture in it. He heard Killian make a sound of surprise, and a curse in Chinese or Japanese or something from one of their attackers.

Nohano clenched his teeth, contorting around to kick out at the woman who still had a hold of his hair. He felt his metal-booted feet hit, and with a clang of metal, the woman fell backwards.

"Run!" urged a scared, young voice very close to his ear, a voice that was neither Killian's nor Amaya's. "Grab hold, keep close!"

A gray-gauntleted hand shot out to grasp Nohano's, and he grabbed it, staggering to his feet and snatching his helmet from the ground. He heard a hissed command in the Oriental language, and felt the form of one of their attackers shoot past him, but it was clear Nohano and the boy couldn't be seen—and their sound must be being distorted, too!

"Killian!" he hissed, but the person who'd just saved Nohano had already grabbed him, too. And then they were running, running through the gray fog. The newcomer seemed to have no problems running through it, and Nohano realized he was one of them—another Ronin.

The three boys ran for at least five minutes, the fog dissipating as they approached what Nohano recognized as the edge of the fairegrounds. "There!" Nohano gasped, desperate to catch his breath. He gestured to a half-collapsed tent that had been knocked away from the general chaos. A quick look around told Nohano that nearly everyone had fled the faire—those who still could. He felt another surge of fury at the deaths, and sorrow for their families.

As they ducked inside the deserted canvas tent, Nohano got a good look at his rescuer. It was a boy about his age, though he had obviously managed to summon his own full armor, because he was covered from head to toe in gray. The armor had a distinctly Samurai look about it, from the overlapping plated guards on the legs to the helmet with two horn/blade things sticking out of the sides. A short cape hung behind him.

The boy took his helmet off, and Nohano was not too surprised to see red hair and bright green eyes. It was the boy he'd dreamed of before, the one whose parents had fought, trying to get him to take sides.

Nohano couldn't do anything else. He stepped forward the hugged the boy. "I owe you," he said. It was all he said, but his gratitude was apparent. The boy hesitated a moment before returning the grateful gesture, and they took a step back from each other.

"Anytime," said the boy shakily. "I'm Xander, but call me Xan."

"Nohano."

"I'm Killian—and what Nohano said, it goes double for me." Killian shook hands, putting both hands over Xan's for a moment.

"I knew I had to be here for a reason," said Xan, sounding a little shaky. "I dunno who these freaks are, but they're tied with this damned armor, aren't they?"

Nohano nodded tiredly.

"We need to get out of here," said Killian. "We're no match for these guys. They've got us outnumbered and outskilled." He turned suddenly to Xan, who ran a hand through his short hair. "Do you know anything about fighting these filthy, bloody bastards?" Killian didn't curse all too often, but when he did, he was downright vicious about it.

"No," said Xan. "Never even took karate or anything. I just got thrown into this thing, neck-deep."

Killian and Nohano exchanged knowing looks; they could both sympathize!

"We gotta find Amaya," said Nohano, and explained to Xan that she was another of their group. "We scattered when they attacked. They don't know about her yet, but..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Killian's right, we gotta get out of here."

"Okay," said Xan. "Let's...let's get outta here I guess. This damned place is like a maze...where would she be?"

"We work here, we know our way," said Nohano. "The problem is, there are about a million places to hide...if she's even still...here." "Here" wasn't the word he was going to say, Nohano realized. He had been about to say "still alive."

---

The Toyota Cyclone died, just as it reached the parking lot of the Renaissance Faire. Scowling darkly, Suisei left the car, popping the hood to peer under it. Oddly enough it seemed to be fine in all aspects, and while not a brand-new vehicle, it was in very good condition. Surely the cross-country trip hadn't worn it down so badly!

Little Tarun also hopped out of the vehicle, needing no excuse to escape it. "Look," he said, pointing to the fairegrounds.

Sounds of a violent fight came from within, and smoke rose from several fires. Suisei caught sight of the blast from a laser weapon, and a scream from someone who sounded like they'd been badly hurt. He took a deep breath.

"We gotta go in and help," Tarun said decisively, though the look on his face was more fearful than determined, and he stayed close to Suisei's leg.

"Yes," said Suisei, looking down apprehensively at the boy. "Look...armor up now, okay?" The kid had managed to find out not only how to call his armor, but even some of its abilities. Suisei still didn't know what his was supposed to do, much less being able to get the entire enchilada to work.

"Okay." Tarun looked upwards and scowled, sticking his tongue out at the dark clouds obscuring the sun. They'd figured out that his armor was closely associated with the daytime, always working best when it was bright and warm. It made a lot of sense; Tarun didn't like the dark, and his favorite activity was running around outside, enjoying the sunlight. Still, he could get the armor on when it was dark, just so long as it was a daylight hour.

Suisei watched in fascination as always, as the armor sort of...adhered, as if it had come to the kid from another dimension, fitting itself around his body. Suisei couldn't tell if it looked Greek or Japanese, or some weird combination of the two, but it was made of bright, warm colors. It definitely suited the kid.

Suisei got on his own undergear, steeling himself for a fight. He was not too worried about Tarun; once he had his armor on, there wasn't anything that could catch him. But there was still danger. He wondered as he often did why someone so young had been chosen for this. But he had, and the kid had the courage, that was for certain. "Let's go, then," he said quietly. "Try to find the others, if they're here." The sound of a distant siren made Suisei curse. "And hurry!"

He realized he's used a poor choice of words when the boy took off running, faster than Suisei could ever hope to run, and was gone from sight. Giving a quick prayer for Tarun's safety, Suisei ran towards the faire.

---

Killian, Nohano, and Xan had gone across the entire faire before finding Amaya's hiding place. She looked as ruffled as the rest of them, but unhurt. "You are safe!" she exclaimed, stepping cautiously out from behind a weapons vendor's stall.

"Mostly," said Nohano quietly. "Been taking cover, mostly, like everyone else..."

"And your armor--and he--"

"I think we'd best talk later," said Killian. "For now, we've got to leave."

"It's not gonna be easy," said Xan grimly. "I've been here for a few hours, and before I came across you guys, I saw how many people they've got; ten. They've got the whole place surrounded, if we try to leave, they're gonna see us."

"We need to sneak away," said Killian. Nohano frowned, disliking the idea of slinking away after all these bastards had done. He realized it was the sanest choice, but that didn't mean he wanted to do it.

"I can conceal us, but I use gray fog," Xan continued. "It keeps them from seeing us as individuals so they can't attack, but the fog itself, they'll see."

Nohano turned suddenly to him, frowning in confusion. "That wolf dude--he was this close to killing me." He held his white-clad fingers about an inch apart. "How'd you stop it?"

Xan smiled a little. "I can also throw up a shield--I've had a lot of time to practice this stuff."

"So what do we do?" asked Killian. "We're a little conspicuous in this stuff--especially you two." He looked pointedly at the bright red armor that Nohano sported and the bulky gray metal that covered Xan. "And at least one of them knows me and Nohano by sight."

"Why make it easy for them, though?" said Xan, frowning uncertainly. "Take off the armor and you'd blend in, right? Well if you didn't get too close to them. The only thing is, that if they did see us, we'd be without any protection."

"They sense the armor spheres," said Amaya. "But they must be near, I think, to know who has it. I have another idea. They have armor like ours. It need energy, as ours. They use their powers a lot today. If they do it too much..."

"They'll either drop out cold or have to recharge?" said Killian hopefully.

Amaya nodded.

"Okay, that's it, then," said Nohano. "We just have to stay alive, and try to make sure they don't...don't hurt anyone else...long enough to outlast them. We should try and make them expend as much energy as possible."

"But how?" asked Killian.

"I know!"

Everyone jumped and spun around; the voice had not come from one of them, and sounded extremely young. Nohano blinked at the sight of a small person in bright yellow armor, bouncing in place as if he was about to take off into outer space. The young Ronin he'd seen in the hangar dream? Everyone seemed a little taken aback by the strange child.

"Watch me!" the boy said with a big grin, and he took off, so fast that Nohano could barely see him.

"The hell," he uttered, stepping out a little bit to watch what happened. His initial alarm for the boy's safety was replaced with utter astonishment as the kid ran right up to one of the warriors that Nohano didn't recognize, stopped, and kicked him right in the seat of his armor. The man let out a snarl of rage and turned, an ancient-looking spear in his hands, but the boy laughed and ran off, meters away before the man had even completely turned around. The warlord let a curse that sounded to Nohano to be Spanish or Italian, and spun around, looking for the boy.

"That kid's got guts," said Killian wonderingly.

"The kid's got no sanity in his head!" said Nohano.

"He's got the right idea," said Amaya.

"He does," said Nohano with an amazed laugh. He looked down to his helmet and put it on, feeling oddly safer once it rested securely on his head. "All right, take his lead. Harass them, try not to get caught by more than one at once. Throw rocks, wood, anything you can find--attack from a distance. Put _them_ on the defensive." He hesitated a moment before looking backwards to see the hilts of two swords sticking up behind his armor. After a few moments worth of contortion, he managed to get them out of their sheaths, and held them out to Amaya.

"What's this?" she said, shocked. "They are yours, for the armor of Wildfire."

"I know," said Nohano, pushing the hilts into her hands. "But I don't know how to use them, and you do. I can learn later. For now, use them--see if you can't do some damage to the miserable bastards."

She frowned slightly, but took the blades, not able to dispute the logic. But she still did not seem like she thought it was a good idea. Nohano didn't understand why; he certainly couldn't use the blasted things! "Okay guys...let's go. We might not have the skill they have in fighting, but we're kids--when it comes to annoying people, we can't be beat."

That surprised a laugh out of everyone, and Nohano could actually feel the general level of fear sink. He grinned as Xan replaced his own helmet, and the others seemed to be steeling themselves for the assault...such as it was.

A moment later, the fairegrounds were a flurry of activity and confusion. The yellow-clad kid was still racing around like a crazed squirrel, smacking the invaders as he passed, or pausing long enough to hurl something at them with what Nohano recognized as an old-fashioned sling. The ammunition he threw, however, was anything but old-fashioned; charged either with electricity or magic, the zapped anything they came into contact with. The invading warriors were furious, but unable to catch the boy.

"Come on!" said Nohano, charging back out into the compound. He now saw what Xan had described; the whole area was surrounded by them, all in a wide circle. Well. They wanted to make a fight of it...well...Nohano would oblige! But he was gonna fight by his rules.

The young Ronin Warriors scattered into the fray.

Nohano stooped to grab up a solid dagger from the ground, knocked from a vendor's stall, and hurled it as hard as he could at a nearby armored figure. There was a young-sounding yell of startlement, and for a moment, Nohano was afraid he'd attacked one of the undiscovered Ronin, but when the kid turned around, Nohano did not recognize him.

The boy, who looked even younger than Nohano, growled and snapped a crossbow up to his shoulder. Nohano flung himself to the side, the crossbow bolt whizzing past his head. He laughed, purely to piss the kid off, and gave him the finger.

The kid was obviously American, because he recognized the insult, and ran at Nohano. "Do that again, you prick!" he challenged.

Nohano flipped him off again and darted into one of the many fires that raged around the compound, letting a more genuine laugh at the invigorating jolt of energy it gave him. 'This is cool,' he thought dizzily as he leapt out of the flames. 'This is scary as hell, but cool!'

The kid had been taken aback by the seemingly suicidal move, but when Nohano leapt out, he narrowed his eyes. "Cute move," he growled, raising his weapon once more. Nohano ducked back into the fire, using it for concealment as the boy shot at him once more. Nohano yelled in alarm as the arrow thunked into his armor, not quite piercing to his skin, but knocking him backwards. He staggered, dizzied, by a peculiar sensation; an unreal gloom descended on him, any enjoyment he'd felt gone in less than a second. Powers--his powers--were these the kid's powers?

Nohano's hesitation almost cost him. He still stood in the fire, but had been still long enough for the kid to draw a bead on him with the crossbow, even if he couldn't personally pursue him into the flames. Nohano yelled in pain as a second arrow hit him. This one hitting him in the side, where his armor wasn't as thick. He looked down in shock, then turned to the kid, before taking off away from the flames.

"Not so funny now, is it?" the kid yelled gleefully, sprinting at him. Once again, Nohano found himself fleeing for cover.

---

It had not been a long run for Rashida and Demetrius to the fairegrounds, but they had run full speed. When they arrived, they were both weak with exhaustion, but they would not be able to rest. Rashida stopped just outside the main commotion, calling out a word foreign to her. Quick with puzzles and good with research, Rashida had been able to figure out how to call the armor without any outside help from her element. The soft green armor, now familiar and comforting to her, coalesced around her body, covering every part of her except for part of her face.

She looked to Demetrius, who had removed his glasses and also armored up, though his armor was far bulkier than hers was. Demetrius was the one who had been able to figure out their elements, causing her to be able to determine the armors' names. Her armor was light and wisdom; his strength and stone. Neither of them had been too surprised.

The armor gave the weary youths a surge of energy, and they ran towards the melee.

As the fight came into full view, Rashida stopped and stared, just for a moment. She gazed at the scene, unable to make any sense of it. She understood there was a group of Ronin Warriors below, the ones she and Demetrius had sought for weeks, but what they were doing could not be called fighting. They ran and dodged, hid and ran some more, taunting and pestering, but never really fighting if they could help it. There was a small one down there, moving with a speed that should not be possible, and a kid in red armor fighting with one of the adults from the Dynasty. A girl in sub-armor fought with two katana, though Rashida couldn't figure where she'd gotten them--possibly from one of the many booths that had been abandoned and knocked over all over the place.

Those who did fight did not seem to know how to do it very well, except for the girl, and Rashida suddenly understood what they were doing. None of the Ronin used the powers of their armor except for the child...but the evil ones did. The warlords would lose power before the Ronin would!

She watched one of the warlords spin to face the small one in yellow armor, snarling something in Japanese, and casting a torrent of dark lightning at the kid. Everything in the immediate area darkened as if it were night, and there was a scream of either fear or pain from the boy, whom Rashida could no longer see. The girl with the swords ran to his aid, disappearing confidently into the darkness, and the sounds of a battle came from within.

A third figure stood nearer to her and Demetrius, in dark blue sub-armor, and she realized it was another Ronin. He was a tall boy with long, black hair, looking like he came from Japan. She caught his eye, and they nodded to one another, each recognizing the other as an ally.

Demetrius tapped her on the shoulder, nodding to their left and to their right. Several of the Dynasty warriors fought, but there were three or four who'd been kept on the sidelines, perhaps to prevent escape, or as backup. Rashida smiled, nodding her head, and she and Demetrius separated from each other, each stealthily approaching one of the outer guards. Demetrius had taken the weapon from his back, assembling the three nunchaku-like parts to make a metal staff, bladed at each end. Rashida's weapon was a longsword, which she had practiced with almost constantly for the past two weeks.

She looked towards the tall boy, but he had already gotten the idea, edging their way. She didn't know how much help he could be if he didn't know how to use his armor yet, but they could use all the help they could get!

With a sudden yell, Demetrius charged the nearest Dynasty fighter, a burly Oriental man in bear-like armor. He turned, startled, as Demetrius knocked into him, sending him asprawl in the dirt. The Oriental man laughed, amazingly, whipping out a weapon that looked like a mutated morningstar, and sent the weight at the end towards Demetrius's head.

Demetrius dodged aside, raising his metal staff to catch the weapon, tightening his grip as the Oriental man yanked backwards with the chain, nearly snatching the weapon from Demetrius's hand.

The other perimeter guards, lured by the commotion, ran to help. Rashida held back, unnoticed by them, until she stuck out her foot, sending one of them sprawling in the dirt. From that moment, they'd joined in the battle.

The Twilight and Day armors.

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	12. Retreat and Loss

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 12: Retreat and Loss**

Kale was furious. The raid was supposed to be quick and easy, a simple search-and-destroy mission. The miserable little brats were unskilled and untrained, they should have been dead within the first five minutes. Dais had identified the two of them right away, they should have been dead.

The one with the Wildfire armor was quicker than he looked, and by sheer bad luck, he'd managed to evade attack and summon his full armor. The Torrent boy, however, hadn't, he'd simply been quick enough to escape the initial attack.

And then, damn it, every one of those miserable Ronin had shown up! Five of the armors, Kale knew well, but the other three, the newly created armors, were unknown factors. He didn't know their powers or how well their owners understood them. He knew nothing of their character, or how to deal with them.

Except for this one miserable little brat. It was clear what his armor gave; speed. With Kale's understanding of such armors, and of how they display their characteristics, he'd figured the child worked with light to fuel his infuriating speed! Seething, Kale held his weapon up, calling for his Black Lightning Slash, letting loose a barrage of dark, frigid energy at the boy. That had stopped the kid in his tracks, bowling him over in the dirt, engulfing him with darkness. The child would have been dead moments later, but for the interference of the girl--

The girl, she had very little trouble locating him in the dark, coming at him with a pair of katana he recognized as belonging to Wildfire. 'He can't even use his own weapons!' he thought with frustration. 'How could we have failed so badly?'

He had little time to think after that, as the girl attacked, and it was clear that she at least had some fighting skills. Not as much as him, but she was quick, and held her own fairly well. But Kale could not remain here longer. The sounds of sirens approached from all directions, and he knew full well that while they were mere mortals, that the warlords alone could not deal with too many of them. And there was every possibility that they would bring in their military if they had any inklings whatsoever what this attack might be.

And his armor was beginning to lose power.

Kale didn't want to retreat. His master would punish him, likely quite severely, but worse, Kale would lose his favor. He had done well, had led well, and trained the new warlords as best he could. And here, now, he had gotten too cocky, and underestimated his foes. He'd not learned yet; perhaps he deserved whatever Talpa gave him.

Kale finally snarled and leapt backwards, away from the girl's weapons, and bellowed in Japanese: "RETREAT!"

Dais, nearby, ducked away from the chaos and looked sharply at him. Kale nodded, hating it, and Dais acknowledged with a curt nod. He ran towards the guards on the perimeter, calling out the retreat, and within ten seconds, they were gone. The only one left, Kale remained for only a moment, glaring hatred at the one who bore the Wildfire armor. Then he, too, disappeared.

---

Nohano could not stop himself from cheering, just for a brief moment. He could hardly believe it, but the invaders had left, and everyone had managed to survive

"He called to retreat!" called Amaya across the compound, sounding amazed. She came over to return his katana, helping him get the weapons back onto his back, and staring in astonishment. "We did it, I cannot believe it!

The child, the one with the yellow armor, raced over, his eyes wide. "That was great!" he exclaimed, and Nohano was relieved. When he'd heard the kid go down, he'd feared the worst. "That dark one," said the kid, clenching a fist, "I will get him! I don't like him. He's cold. And now I'm cold, too."

Nohano noticed then that the kid was shivering, and frowned a little. He lifted one of his hands to his own face, feeling the heat that emanated from his armor, and stepped over to the boy. "C'mere, kiddo," he said, holding out an arm to put around his shoulders. The boy looked at him curiously, but didn't pull away, and Nohano sort of held him close, hoping to warm the boy.

It seemed to work. The boy was still for a moment, then looked up, laughing, no longer shaking. "Wow, that is great!" he said. "Thanks!"

Killian ran up, looking urgent. "There're loads of police heading this way, mate, we can't be found like this. And there're three others of us over near the edges." He pointed, and Nohano looked up to see where Killian indicated. He took a big breath, only now beginning to register the sirens, and made a "come here" gesture to the new arrivals. "Armor down!" he called, wondering if that was even a real phrase. What the hell could he call it? "Get the armor off!" He only hoped that if anyone at the faire told about them, it would be dismissed as hysteria. Not perhaps the nicest thing to hope for, but the trouble it could cause if they were even suspected of being a part of this would be big!

The three new arrivals joined the group, and one by one, the armor disappeared. Nohano closed his eyes, hoping that he could banish the full armor the way he did the riot gear, and when he felt the weight leave him, he knew he'd been right. When he opened his eyes, he was looking at a strange assortment of youths, seemingly from around the globe, all of them looking like they'd gotten roughed up pretty good in the fight. 'At least we look like victims, not criminals,' he thought.

His timing had been very close. The first of the police came over the hill leading into the fairegrounds only a moment later, spilling onto the grounds as people began creeping out of their hiding places. The direness of the whole situation was brought back full force as Nohano looked around, seeing once again the bodies that lay on the ground. He looked down at his side, grimacing at a smear of blood on his tunic, and raised it to look at the wound. It wasn't bad; the armor had taken most of the crossbow bolt, but he'd still gotten nicked. The important part was the awful hopelessness had dissipated.

"I gotta get out of here," whispered Killian, and Nohano moved to put an arm around him.

The clouds had cleared as soon as the Dynasty bastards left, and Nohano realized it was a powerful clue. Those clouds would signify trouble, a forewarning to be prepared. If only they'd realized its full significance earlier, maybe they could have avoided all of this.

A fire truck screamed into the area, and several people got out of it, beginning to put out what few fires remained. Most everything had burned up, or been put out somehow or another during the fighting. Several police cars began to drive into the area, though strangely, several officers approached on foot, and Nohano wondered why they'd not driven up like the rest. Very soon, the entire area was full of cops, medics, firefighters, and frightened people.

An officer came up to Nohano's group and asked if they were all right, and sent the whole group over to one of the medical teams. Nohano managed to give a fairly accurate story of the attack without mentioning their own involvement in the battle. Taking his lead, the others gave similar accounts while the paramedics looked them over. None of them was hurt badly, and they were sent away with some minor first aid, so they could take care of the more serious cases.

Nohano recognized several of those being treated as people who worked at the faire, but one man made him stare, unable to believe he had forgotten. "Aaron!" he called, running over. How could he have forgotten the guys?

Aaron blinked, then sighed, as if in relief. "Hey, Nohano," he said quietly. "You all right?"

"Y-yeah...I'm okay, but you're hurt, what happened?"

Aaron was bleeding badly from a wound in his arm, and blood spattered across his face from a nasty looking head wound. "Not sure," said Aaron. "It was all just...chaos. Something hit me, I dunno if it was debris, or what."

Nohano took a big breath and looked around, seeking the other members of No Quarter. He caught sight of Gregory, being treated for a head wound also, and Manny, leaning against one of the few intact stalls, looking unhappy but unharmed. But he couldn't see Robert anywhere. "What about Robert, where is he? They didn't have to take him to the hospital, di..." He trailed off at the look on Aaron's face, feeling suddenly cold. "Aaron, where is he?"

"He's still at the stage, kid," said Aaron quietly, looking at the ground. "He didn't--"

Horror washed over Nohano. He lurched to his feet, sprinting towards the stage they'd been performing on when the bastards attacked--that performance seemed like it had been days ago--and frantically searched the area. The stage itself was half in pieces, though it had escaped burning, but there was no one standing anywhere around it. Shaking, Nohano looked to the ground.

Robert lay face down on the ground, his legs half underneath the stage construct, his long hair in tangles on the dirt. Nohano heard a strangled cry from his own throat as he ran to him, dropping to his knees, grasping his shoulder and heaving him onto his back. The limp weight of his body scared Nohano; the body felt wrong. It was warm only, not nearly as warm as it should be, heavier than it should be. Nohano didn't need to see the deep, raw burn that cut Robert from his chest to his gut, nor the sightless stare of his eyes to know.

"Oh-no, Robert, oh God--"

Nohano was suddenly sobbing, kneeling numbly at Robert's side, aware of nothing else except his friend's body. The only thing he could think of was that he was dead. Dead. He'd never seen death before, never before this day. Nothing he'd ever read or seen could have ever begun to describe it. He couldn't do anything except stare, trying to force his mind around something that seemed too big for anyone to be able to accept.

Someone was besides him then, kneeling also, and Nohano turned to see Killian there, looking as if he was ready to try and hold Nohano, to comfort him somehow. He lurched to his feet, pushing Killian away, and ran; he didn't want to see Killian, he didn't want to see any of them! He didn't want to see any of them, or this! Stumbling away from the stage, he jammed his hand into his pocket, fumbling around until he forced his numb, shaking hands around the armor sphere, and yanked it out of his pocket. He flung the ball as hard as he could, then ran again.

He didn't know where he was going. Anywhere but that stage, the last place he'd ever seen his friend alive, belting out a song about the death of a man called Bartholomew Roberts. Nohano began to shiver uncontrollably at the ominous premonition of the song.

The strange battle had taken its toll on Nohano. He had not gone far, only barely out of the fairegrounds, before he dropped to his knees, unable to run any more. All he could do was cry.

It could never be the same after this. How could he sing with No Quarter again, without Robert there? Every time they were to practice, or every gig they managed to get would only be a cruel reminder that Robert wasn't there anymore to play guitar.

---

Killian sat on the ground and watched Nohano run off, not sure how he felt, himself. He'd seen so much death in the past months that his mind had protected itself by growing numb, but he was still very unhappy at Robert's death. He'd like the man a great deal; he'd made sure Killian felt welcome, all the time. And to see Nohano so upset about it made it worse. He wasn't angry he'd been shoved away. He wasn't sure he'd want himself around, either. He excused himself for a moment and darted to where Nohano had cast the orb, knowing it was a very bad idea to leave it lying around. It took him several minutes, but he found the ball lying in one of the trash bins, which was miraculously still upright. "Guess they had no reason to destroy a rubbish bin," he said with dark humor, reaching in and grasping the orb. It felt uncomfortably hot to him, and he slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans, where the thick material would shield his skin. "Fire and water," he murmured, shaking his head.

When he returned, the others had seated themselves on the half-destroyed stage, their expressions ranging from angry to unhappy. The small boy looked as if he were about to cry. The tall one who seemed to be his guardian put an arm around the boy. Killian stopped. "Well...I'm Killian Zale," he said quietly. "I'm from Australia...in case it wasn't obvious." He tried to laugh, but it didn't work. "Um, that was Nohano...the one there--" He nodded down to Robert, taking a big breath and looking back to the others. "He's a friend of Nohano's."

"Amaya," said Amaya quietly by way of introduction, her tone curt. Killian wasn't sure if she was angry or upset, but she obviously wasn't feeling friendly.

The others gave their names in turn, and Killian tried to keep them in his head, and matched to the right face. Names weren't an easy thing for him to remember. His eyes swept the small crowd, thinking their names. Suisei for the tall boy, Tarun for his young companion. Demetrius for the white-haired boy, and Rashida for the girl with him, neither of which seemed to speak more than half a dozen words in English. Amaya he already knew, and the boy who had joined them that afternoon was Xander. Xan, as he preferred.

"Is there somewhere we can talk in private?" asked Suisei, looking nervously around.

"We can go to my home," said Amaya. "I have rented a small house here."

"How old are you?" asked Suisei in surprise.

"Fourteen," said Amaya with a grim smile, "but I look a little older. I was able to...well." She blushed, as if embarrassed, and Killian realized she had probably done something dishonest to be able to rent a house. Amaya glanced up at the officers milling about the place, then back to her new allies. "Nohano and Killian live here, but they share a home with four...three...others." She, too, glanced down at Robert's unmoving body, her grim visage softening into sorrow for just a moment.

"I have a vehicle," said Suisei. "Small, but we can squeeze in if there is no other transportation...though it stalled just outside this place. We may have to fix it first."

Killian glanced up, catching sight of movement from the corner of his eyes, and saw Nohano walking back towards them, his eyes swollen and red, his face still damp. He said not a word, only stood near Killian, his hands in his pockets and his head down. "We're moving," said Killian quietly. "Suisei, that's the tall one, has a car. I...we were going to go to Amaya's. I dunno, d'you wanna stay here with the guys?" He felt desperately sorry for Nohano. Not only had he lost a good friend, but now he had to decide between accompanying his new allies, part of the whole mess that had killed his friend, or leaving them for the moment to be with his other friends, where he would be constantly reminded of the tragedy.

Nohano didn't answer, and Killian could see he couldn't decide.

Amaya stepped forward then, frowning the slightest bit. "You grieve," she said, "but you cannot let this rule over you. You must gather your courage, get control of yourself."

Killian winced as Nohano's head snapped up. If she had meant to be encouraging with her words, it had failed miserably. He had seen the girl's impatience with their immaturity, her frustration of their ignorance and casual ways, and what she deemed an appalling disregard of the traditions she felt went hand in hand with being a Ronin Warrior. However, he hadn't quite thought she would be this insensitive!

Neither, apparently, had Nohano. "What?" he asked quietly, but didn't give her much of a chance to argue. Killian could see tears shine in the other boy's eyes, and he yelled: "One of my closest friends is dead! I just got shot at and attacked by-by-freaks from another...the whole faire, people got killed all over the place! How can you tell me to just 'deal with it'?"

Amaya blinked, then narrowed her strange, blue eyes. "This is a war, Wildfire," she said softly. "A war. If you cannot handle it, perhaps you must surrender your armor to someone who can."

"Amaya!" Killian exclaimed, reprimanding. He didn't even see what the others in their group were doing; his field of vision had narrowed to only Nohano and Amaya, and he had the bad feeling things might get a little messy.

Nohano's eyes widened in fury, and he lunged at the girl. Yelling in alarm, Killian grabbed him around the waist, stopping his charge for only a moment before Nohano broke free.

For a minute, everything was in an uproar; Nohano was yelling at Amaya, though Killian couldn't understand any of it. Suisei and Demetrius had sprung to their feet to grab Amaya, who looked as if she had every intention of breaking his nose. Rashida and Xan were helping Killian keep Nohano from decking her.

"You would attack your ally!" Amaya hissed, stilling temporarily, glaring at Nohano. "My ancestor would be ashame to know the one who bear his armor!"

Things could have gone south quickly from there, had it not been for the arrival of several of the police officers who had been swarming the place. Killian had almost forgotten where they were, and how many people were still around.

"Hey!" one of the officers bellowed, running up with a stunstick in his hand. He didn't use it, yet, only got into the middle of the brawl, helping to separate Amaya and Nohano. "Break it up, you two!"

Killian was thankful that Nohano backed off, though tears streamed down his face, and he glared daggers at Amaya, who glared them right back.

"What's going on, here?" asked one of the other officers, looking the group over, wary that they might start fighting again.

"Sorry, sir," said Killian, when no one else seemed to know what to say. "My friend, well, he lost someone he cared for today. He's...kinda really..." He wasn't sure how to say it, and so he only indicated Nohano's tear-streaked face.

The Hawaiian boy abruptly turned his back on Amaya, ignoring her completely, and turned to the officer. "Sorry," he said in a low tone, his fists still clenched.

The officer's expression relaxed a little, and he nodded. "I understand, son." Looking at all of them, he said, "I assume you are all together?" When most of them nodded, he added, "Who here is of age?"

"I am," said Suisei.

"But Nohano's an emancipated minor," Killian added, nodding to his friend.

"All right. I'd like to get statements from all of you, then...then I think you'll want to go home. We're starting to clear everyone out here."

"I can get 'em home," said Suisei. "I've got a car outside...though it stalled out. I might have to ask for a jump if that's the problem."

The officer frowned, shaking his head briefly. "You know, several of our vehicles stalled as well, but started up again when they tried 'em a few minutes later...strangest thing, I gotta say." He took a notebook from his pocket, nodding at the others who had run up with him, and they left the group to do something else. "If you could tell me what happened today?"

Among the eight of them, they managed to relate the afternoon without revealing their own roles in the battle, as they had done while being tended by the medics. Suisei and Nohano both showed the officer their identification, and Demetrius and Rashida showed their passports; not able to speak English, it was too obvious they were not from the country.

"Thanks, guys," said the officer, and laid a hand briefly on Nohano's shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss, son."

Nohano nodded, and Killian breathed a sigh of relief. Then he turned to Amaya. "Listen. I'm gonna get my friend back to the other guys in his group. I think he needs to talk with them for a while by himself. I'll be back." He was having a bit of difficulty keeping a check on his own temper, angry at Amaya's lack of compassion and what he perceived as great arrogance, and he turned around to guide Nohano away from the group.


	13. Shaky Alliance

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 13: Shaky Alliance**

Once they'd walked a good ten meters away, Killian stopped and took Nohano's orb from his pocket. "Take this, mate," he said, holding the orb out. When Nohano's mouth twisted into an expression of loathing, Killian grasped his arm, cutting off whatever it was he had been about to say. "Nohano, please," he said, looking him right in the eyes. "I know you don't want it, and I probably wouldn't, either. But if this happens again...Nohano, I don't want you without protection."

Nohano didn't answer for what seemed like ten minutes, but he finally looked down, his expression one of capitulation, and Killian could almost feel the last of Nohano's temper drain away into weariness. He took the orb, and Killian managed a smile. "It'll be okay," he said quietly. "Maybe not for a while...but it will be. As for Amaya, I'm gonna have a word or three with her when we meet. For now, though...just...go be with the others. They'll want you with 'em."

Killian breathed a sigh of relief as Nohano finally smiled faintly, and nodded. "Killian," he said hoarsely, and cleared his throat. "Thanks. And—I'm really sorry I shoved you away earlier. I just...I couldn't...I--"

Killian held up a hand, halting Nohano's stammered. "Don't," he said. "I forgive ya. How could I not?" Nohano smiled again, and the two boys embraced briefly. "I'll see you later, maybe tomorrow, okay?"

Nohano nodded, wiping his eyes, and slunk off towards where the other members of No Quarter had gathered, several meters away. When Killian returned to the stage, the others were waiting for him. He said nothing, only followed when Suisei stood up and began to lead the way back to his car. In fact everyone was quiet, even the young boy Tarun, who fidgeted, but said nothing.

---

When the group arrived as Suisei car, Suisei got in and tried the ignition, frowning in bafflement as it started on the first try. "That's interesting," he muttered, turning the engine off and ducking back out of the door. "Well," he said. "I guess we all pile in...it won't be easy to squish seven of us in. Even if one _is_ a shrimp."

"Hey!" said Tarun indignantly, putting his hands on his hips and glaring. Killian chuckled, happy for the distraction. "I am not a shrimp! Besides—I could fit in the trunk!" His indignation melted into delight at having thought of this grand solution to the problem.

Suisei only rolled his eyes to the sky. Demetrius, through a clever translating device he wore on his wrist, offered his lap and Tarun accept agreeably enough. Demetrius was easily the stockiest of the lot, and with both him and Tarun in the front seat, it left more room in the back for the others. As it was, it was still uncomfortable for four of them to squeeze together back there. The car wasn't tiny, but it certainly wasn't very big, either! Amaya ended up half on Rashida's lap, and Xander and Killian squeezed in beside them.

Looking wryly amused, Suisei got into the vehicle and started it up again, driving slowly out of the parking lot.

They were stopped by a pair of police officers on the way out, who expressed concern about the safety factor of all those people in the car, but Suisei assured him he was only bringing the others home, away from the fairegrounds. The officer hesitated for a moment, but he used his radio to check with whoever was in charge, and on finding Suisei had clearance to leave, waved them on. "Be careful, young man," he said in farewell.

Thanking the man, Suisei drove out.

It was a great relief to Killian to leave that place, and it seemed the others felt the same way, for no one said anything. Demetrius grunted suddenly and uttered something in what sounded like Russian, and Suisei admonished Tarun to stop fidgeting and watch where he put his hands. He had to say this three more times on the trip, in fact. No one else had much to say during the trip, and twenty minutes later, they were all standing at the door of Amaya's small rental house.

The house was in a quiet neighborhood with tiny houses and small lots, but the houses were quite large enough for one person to live in. Amaya's house was light brown, with darker brown for trim. Amaya unlocked the door and stepped onto a very small square of tile. "Please take off your shoes," said Amaya, doing the same herself, and stepping into the house. Killian was a little surprised, but did as she asked, discarding the Medieval style boots he'd borrowed from Aaron to wear while he worked at the faire. He realized, startled, he was still in garb. Had they gone to the faire only that morning?

For that matter, what time was it? He saw no clock, and carried no watch.

Once everyone had taken their shoes off, he asked Suisei what his watch said. "It's seven o'clock," he said.

Seven! Only seven! It seemed impossible. Killian shook his head and joined the rest of the group, sitting in a small living room with no furniture in it, and a mat on the floor that looked like it was made of straw or something similar. Amaya knelt on it, looking less furious, but her expression was still not friendly. "I am not used to people here," she said to them. "But is needed."

Killian felt mildly insulted, and wondered why she had suddenly become so unfriendly. Her ways had been different from his and Nohano's from the beginning, but her attitude now was downright hostile! Apparently noting Killian's expression (he was never good at hiding his feelings), Suisei whispered, "The traditionalists in Japan do not entertain people in their homes. It's considered rude to the guests."

Amaya frowned, but said nothing, while Killian digested this information. It made sense, he supposed, but it didn't explain her hostility.

"Well, all right," said Killian. "So...what _are _we supposed to do? I gotta say this is all new to me."

"It is war," said Amaya.

Her tone was not belligerent, not towards Killian, but her words sparked his temper at last. It normally took a great deal to ignite Killian's temper, but when it did erupt, it was like a tidal wave, and after she'd been so unkind to his best friend, his temper was more than ready to boil over. He brought his fist down on the strange straw mat, breaking several of its little strands, but he didn't care. He glared at Amaya, who looked shocked. "Do not dare lecture me of war!" he snarled. "In case you forgot, I come from Australia, being torn apart as we speak by a civil war that's half destroyed my bloody town! I've seen people cut down in the streets by laser fire, seen soldiers striking down bystanders as they ran for safety! I'd bet I've seen more death in the past year than you have your whole life!"

Everyone was staring at him, and he wondered in a very distracted way why they seemed so shocked. Amaya he understood, as she'd never seen him lose his temper before, but the others couldn't know how unusual this was for him, could they?

He wasn't finished, however. "I don't know where my mum and dad are, or even if they're alive," he said, his voice quieting, but no less furious. "My house was probably destroyed by the bloody tsunami that hit the northern coast, as if the war wasn't enough! I understand war, I understand it just fine. And you know, I swore I would never fight a war, never cause that much misery to people. And here I am, thrust headfirst into another war, and this time I have no choice but to fight! So just stop. Stop. Just like you hurt Nohano earlier, you've hurt me now, and it's uncalled for. Maybe you're able to put your feelings aside, but not all of us grew up being taught the ways of a warrior." He added with a great amount of sarcasm, "You have a slight advantage, being the daughter of a Ronin, and all."

Silence fell, and Killian closed his eyes, taking in a big breath, and calming his ire. He wished he had his fountain; back home, he'd had a fountain a foot high in his room, made of rocks and trickling water. It never failed to soothe him when he was scared or unhappy.

Amaya did something then that surprised Killian. She stood, and bowed very low to him. "I offer sincerest apologies, Zale-san," she said.

'Zalesan?' Killian wondered, caught very much wrongfooted. He glanced at Suisei, who seemed to know about these kinds of customs. "A title of respect," the older boy said quietly. "She's giving you a formal apology. You can bow back if you want, or just accept her apology, if you're willing." He smiled and gave a little "go on" gesture.

At first, Killian wasn't too inclined to accept the girl's apology, but a moment later felt ashamed of his spiteful thoughts. She'd been unkind, but that was no reason for him to return it now. Feeling awkward, and noting she'd not risen yet from her bow, Killian stood and imitated the bow.

Amaya glanced up, and managed to smile a little at Killian's gesture, before standing up again. "Thank you," she said, her tone a little less stiff.

Killian shrugged a little shyly, and nodded his head before they both sat back down.

Tarun spoke up, completely breaking the tension. "I have to pee."

Dead silence rung for only a second before nearly everyone began laughing, even Amaya. Killian caught sight of Demetrius listening perplexedly to his electronic translator, before he and Rashida began laughing as well. It had been a long, terrifying, horrible day, and after the boy's unashamedly irreverent declaration, it seemed no one could stop the laughter.

Tarun did not look offended in the least; on the contrary, he looked gleeful. Amaya managed to stop first, and directed the child down a small hallway. "On the left," she said. "Please to use the slippers outside."

Tarun nodded amiably enough and looked down at the floor outside the bathroom door. He shrugged and slipped the oversized garments onto his bare feet and slipped inside.

'We needed that,' thought Killian, shaking his head and wiping his eyes. 'We needed it badly. That child's got a wonderful gift.' He breathed in deeply, catching his breath, as the room began to quiet once more. But the tense, unhappy quality was gone for now.

Once Tarun had tended to Mother Nature's call and returned to the group, Amaya stood. "I am sorry," she said to the group. "I have been very rude. I will get drinks and food, and we can discuss what we must do." She gave a little bow, before disappearing into what Killian assumed was the kitchen, and a sudden realization struck him: 'It's her defense.' She was not normally so formal, so adherent to what must be the old ways of her country. He had seen it a little bit here and there the little time he'd known her, but now... 'She must be just as terrified as the rest of us. Taking courage from her traditions and her warrior ancestry must help her cope.' Unfortunately, it could be very hurtful to others.

His attention was caught by Demetrius, who had stood as if to go and help Amaya with her task, but Suisei caught his arm and spoke softly to him. Demetrius's device sounded something in Russian, and Demetrius frowned, but sat back down.

"That's really cool," said Killian, referring to the translator, which was small enough to be worn like a wristwatch.

Demetrius was able to answer, though it took far longer than normal conversation would. He said it had been a gift from his mother when he left Russia, and had been the most useful item he had ever had in his life. "Rashida and I are trying very hard to learn English," the mechanical voice of the translator declared for him. "It is difficult."

"I bet it is!" Killian only knew English; he had been taking German in school, but didn't know nearly enough to understand it spoken! Still, the translator made things easier; it was the latest model, one that could translate spoken words in real time, and seemed to "know" all of the current slang. It made mistakes now and then, but nothing too bad.

The conversation was light, until Amaya came out with an attractive serving tray with two large pitchers of what looked like lemonade on it. A stock of plastic glasses and a plate of cookies sat in the middle, and she set the tray in the middle of the circle. She seemed about to start handing the treats out, but finally she smiled faintly and gestured to the tray, indicating they should help themselves.

Killian gladly accepted the offer, grabbing two cookies and glass full of lemonade. He was suddenly aware of how ravenous he was as he bit into the cookie, which turned out to be peanut-butter. "Thank you," he said to her, rather rudely through a mouthful of cookie. She blinked, but then seemed to stifle an amused smirk, and nodded in reply. He noticed the Middle Eastern girl had also quite eagerly grabbed a couple of cookies. She looked a little faint, which concerned Killian, but he decided a moment later she just needed something to eat. He didn't know how long it had been since her last meal.

Once everyone had a bit in their stomachs, they began to discuss what had happened at the faire. They each shared a bit of their story, how they'd found their armor, how they'd gotten to California, and what they'd learned of what powers their armor had. Some of them knew quite a bit, while others had only managed to learn how to form the underneath gear. Rashida was a good deal of help in this, saying through the translator that the full armor responded to one of three things: the correct verbal call, a strong influx of the element the armor associated with, or a strong will to become one with the armor. "I have learned the call for my armor, and Demetrius's." The girl pulled her armor orb from the pocket of her worn breeches, and leaned over so she could hold the orb in the middle of the group. "Look closely," said the translator after she'd spoken. "Look at the smoke. At the design."

Killian peered at the sphere, startled to realize that within the swirling mist shone a faint Japanese character, and he dug his own sphere out. "Strewth, I never noticed that!" he exclaimed.

"It is a clue to your armor's alliance." This was from Demetrius, who had put on his glasses, peering at his own sphere. "Rashida's is '_kourin_', which means several things. But for hers it's 'halo.' Mine is earth, or stone. Its name, its call, is '_kongou_'. Not merely stone and light, but diamond and halo. It's a superlative of stone and light, I guess."

"It's a what?" asked Tarun, laughing at the strange word.

"Superlative," explained Suisei. "A superlative is like...a very big version of something. Excellent is a superlative of good."

"Oh!" The boy grinned, looking eagerly to Demetrius. "What would mine be? I can get the armor just by wanting it...I did that way that you guys said. But I don't know its name!"

"I don't know," said Demetrius with a chuckle, that, strangely, the translator also repeated. Killian blinked at this oddity. "What is your armor's affinity?"

"Sun!" said the boy. "Or day. I don't know what one."

Killian listened quietly, very interested in the conversation, and wondered idly what his would be. Not water, surely, that was too mild. But... "Torrent," he said quietly. The Dynasty jerks, they'd called him "Torrent." That was definitely a superlative of "water". He looked up at Amaya, who sat across from him. "How would you say the word 'torrent' in Japanese?"

Amaya frowned. "I'm not sure," she said. "I do not know exactly what a torrent would be...a rush of water?"

"Yeah, pretty much...I'm not sure I know another word for it, really."

"'_Se_', maybe," she said doubtfully. "Like the fast water in a river. Or _doshaburi_, heavy rain."

That sounded like it could be it...Killian supposed he wouldn't know until they tried.

"Oh...and Sanada Ryo was my great grandfather, not my father."

"Oh, sorry," said Killian distractedly. "I hadn't remembered which one. So _doshaburi_—so you just call out the name, or what?"

"Maybe that's best for another time," said Rashida. "Perhaps for now we should recover from our fight. Some of us will need to find lodging, and we will need to exchange information like phone numbers, so we will be able to call one another if something happens."

"That's a good idea," said Killian. "We need to know more about this bloody Dynasty, too...like what do they want? Amaya, you said last time they attacked one of the major cities in Japan? He's trying to take over the world or something?" Amaya nodded. "Why the blazes did they attack a small town like this, then?" Killian mused. "Were they just after us?"

"Probably," said Xander, the first thing he'd said after mentioning he'd left home because of his parents' divorce and consequent bad behavior. "You heard that one jerk-off, he pointed you and the Hawaiian kid out right away. They targeted you too. Not that they limited their attacks on us. They seemed to like hurting people."

"Bastards," Killian spat. He sighed, sitting back, and taking a sip of his lemonade. Then he frowned. A most peculiar feeling came upon him then: a miserable unhappiness, but detached, as if he were tuning in on someone else. He blinked, sitting up straight, and frowning, trying to identify the feeling. "What the hell."

"What's wrong?" asked Suisei.

"I don't know." The feeling was getting stronger, filled with resentment and guilt. And for some insane reason, it reminded Killian of Nohano. "I think—I think I'm feeling someone! I mean—I mean mentally, like telepathy, or--" As soon as he'd said it, he knew that it was true, as bizarre as it was. He was feeling Nohano's emotions, broadcasted like a radio wave!

"Is that even possible?" asked Suisei.

"Yes!" said Tarun with a grin.

"You think everything is possible," said Suisei with a fond smile.

"Yes," Tarun agreed. "Because it is!"

Killian barely heard this exchange; the misery in his head was a very distracting thing, and he stood up. "I've gotta find him, something's happened. I dunno what, but I gotta get to him." Worry clenching at his gut, he said to Amaya, "You know where to find us, right?"

"Well, yes," said Amaya, frowning. She seemed put out by his departure, but seemed to be honoring their recent truce and keeping quiet about it. "But how will you find him?"

"I dunno yet," said Killian, hurrying for the door and grabbing his boots. "I'll see." Waving briefly to the rest of the group, Killian hurried out into the street.

Once he was away from the others, Killian was able to feel Nohano's presence much more clearly. Echoes of what had made his friend so happy flashed across Killian's mind, a voice yelling at Nohano, accusing him of being responsible for Robert's death. A flash of anger, then guilt, as Nohano ran from the building.

Killian stopped at the end of the street, closing his eyes and calming himself, trying not to let Nohano's roiling emotions affect him. A sudden impulse struck, and he began thinking of water, languid, cleansing water. He thought of soothing things, comfort and friendship and safety. He smiled as he began to feel the mental fire die down, calming. Not doused, but soothed. 'Nohano?' he thought tentatively.

Surprise, and a bit of fear, but no response. Killian was both astounded and elated. He was using telepathy! Real telepathy! And it seemed to be almost instinct! 'Where are you?' he thought.

Again there was no reply, but an alien feeling of direction suddenly veered into his mind, and he wondered suddenly if that's how a compass felt. Chuckling quietly at the comparison, he heeded the pull, pulling on his boots, and breaking into a jog.


	14. Friendship

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 14: Friendship**

Nohano felt absolutely wretched. On top of losing Robert, on top of the terror of being attacked by otherworldly assassins, he had to deal with this.

He had reunited with the other members of No Quarter, who had nearly finished being tended. None of them were hurt badly enough to be taken to the hospital, especially since they were only taking the worst-hurt in the vehicles until they could get more there. No one had spoken much as they all rode home, Nohano sitting on the floor as usual. He couldn't quite bring himself to take advantage of the newly vacant seat in the group's van.

They'd gotten home and eaten a very light meal, sandwiches and milk, and still no one had said anything; it wasn't right, only the four of them. The others felt as horrible as Nohano did, and he could see they'd all cried at least once.

Suddenly, Gregory turned to Nohano, his eyes narrowing. "They were after you," he said softly, as grim, sudden comprehension crept into his voice.

Nohano looked up, his eyes widening, and stared. "What?"

"There were after you! That one, the one who pointed you out, called you...called you Wildfire! They were after you!"

Nohano couldn't manage to articulate anything, sputtering incoherently, hearing the accusation in Gregory's voice, and feeling sudden guilt clutch his heart. They _had_ been after him and Killian!

"You bastard!" Gregory suddenly bellowed, clenching his fists and glaring with such hatred that Nohano found himself standing, and taking a hasty step backwards. "They were after you, you brought this down on us—Robert's dead because of you!"

Anger pulsed somewhere in his mind, but Nohano could barely feel it, it was smothered by the sudden, awful, stifling blanket of guilt, responsibility for his friend's death. "I-I didn't--" he started, shaking his head in denial, trying hard to convince himself that it wasn't true. The other guys stared, not seeming to know how to react.

"Get out!" Gregory snarled, grabbing Nohano by the shoulder of his tunic and yanking him violently towards the door.

"Gregory, hold on!" exclaimed Aaron, taking a hesitant step forward, but Gregory ignored him, yanking the door open and glaring at Nohano, shaking from head to foot, his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles were deadly white.

Nohano couldn't say anything more, or even bring himself to try. Clenching his teeth on a sob, he ran from the apartment, the slamming door echoing in the hallway as he tore down the stairs, tears obscuring his vision. 'Stop,' he thought desperately as he ran, not even knowing where he was going. 'Stop, enough—I can't take this!' For the first time since he'd left the foster home, he wished he was back there.

Ten minutes later, Nohano was huddled behind the abandoned building whose parking lot they'd been using as their personal dojo. The grief that had begun to numb in the aftermath of the disaster came back in force, compounded by the horrifying realization that if it weren't for him, for the damned armor he'd found, no one would have died that day.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Nohano began to sob, his head resting heavily on the dirty stone of the abandoned supermarket. He hadn't thought he could cry any more that day, but it was as if a new dam had crumbled.

He didn't know how long he cried, and he didn't care, but by the time he had wound down into an exhausted sort of hitch, it had begun to grow dark outside. The awful misery didn't depart, but he hadn't the energy left to cry anymore, and only slumped against the wall, shivering as the sun set. It wasn't particularly cold out, but he had always been more susceptible to it than most, and the day's events had lowered his resistance even more.

When he suddenly began to calm, he at first did not think anything of it, only hoping that perhaps the hysteria had passed on its own. However quite soon it was clear that was not the case. There seemed to be something easing into his mind, soothing his thoughts, a presence that was not his own, filling his head with images of water. Normally the thought would intimidate him, but it was strange; the images brought calm and comfort, warmth and safety. He didn't understand it, but he was willing to grasp anything, even if it was only in his head, and he let the feelings envelop him.

He distinctly felt a question in his mind, a general query of direction, and Nohano thought of the abandoned supermarket, letting the thought cross his mind, without giving up the security of the unnatural water. It had to be unnatural, because he didn't fear it, and he wondered suddenly if he was dreaming.

Nohano did not think he had fallen asleep, but had let himself drift into a state of mental numbness, drifting on the brink of consciousness. He was physically awake, but his mind had taken a nap, so when a hand gently grasped his shoulder, he was badly startled.

He spun around, sprawling slightly on the dirt-strewn asphalt, and stared up into the face of Killian Zale, who stood looking slightly startled at Nohano's reaction. But then Killian was sitting down, his arm around Nohano's shoulders, and Nohano slumped exhaustedly against him. He couldn't begin to describe the gratitude he felt on being with someone he could trust, who didn't accuse him of anything, or shame him for things he couldn't help. Someone who was solidly on his side.

He didn't cry again. He was far too drained to do that, but he let Killian hold him, and told him what Gregory had said, trying to describe the awful weight it had pressed on him. At that point, Killian stopped rocking him for a moment, holding up a hand. "It's all right," he said to Nohano, "I know. I—well I can't really explain it, but I felt it. Almost as if it was my own feelings. I didn't know exactly what happened, but I felt what you were feeling, like you were a lighthouse."

Stunned, Nohano slowly sat up, pulling away from Killian and staring at him. "You," he said softly. "The water, it was you!"

Killian smiled, looking pleased. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah it was—I didn't know how well it worked, but it seemed to calm you." He blinked, sudden concern flitting across his face. "Damn, I forgot you've got that phobia—it didn't--"

Nohano shook his head quickly, then winced as it began to ache. "No," he said, rubbing his temples. "No, it didn't scare me at all. It was like being in a warm blanket." He felt his face flush as he described it, a little embarrassed to be admitting the kind of sensation he'd felt from the mental contact, but was glad he'd said it all the same.

"Good," said Killian softly. "Look. The rest of us did some talking—I told Amaya off and she actually apologized—I'm hoping she'll be a little more reasonable next time we meet."

She'd apologized? "For what she said to me?' he asked tentatively.

"Well no. She got pretty insensitive with me, actually. But I think she's taken a look at how she's acted, and I hope she'll apologize to you, too."

"I see." Truth to tell, he was surprised she'd relented, period. She was a strange girl, so much more mature than fourteen sometimes, and other times seeming so much younger. He didn't understand her.

"Anyway, that's for another day. For now, well, we should get home. I know the last thing you probably want is to go back there, but I'll be there, and if that Gregory bloke messes with you again..." He let his words trail off, but the threat was there.

Nohano gave his friend a grateful smile for his protectiveness, wishing he wasn't so weak to need it, but appreciating it all the same. "Okay," he finally said.

He shook with exhaustion as he stood, but he stayed on his feet, and stumbled wearily beside Killian, who seemed nearly as tired. They were quiet as they made their way home, and Nohano figured Killian was too tired to talk any more. Nohano certainly was.

He tensed the nearer they got to the apartments, nearly freezing up and refusing to go inside when they reached the door. But he finally stepped forward and grasped the doorknob, cautiously opening the door.

The guys were all there, sitting on the floor and eating what looked like soup and sandwiches, and they all looked up as Nohano opened the door. Everyone was still for just a moment, and Nohano looked to Gregory, wanting to gauge his reaction, but all Gregory did was turn back to his meal. Manny gave the boys a sort of encouraging grin, and motioned them in. "Got soup on the stove," he said, looking them over. "Looks like you might wanna get a shower, too."

As Nohano and Killian stepped in, Killian shutting the door, Nohano looked the guys over and judged they'd all already bathed. They were no longer in their Renaissance Faire garb, either; neither Killian nor Nohano had gotten the chance to change. "Thanks," he said quietly to Manny, heading for the kitchen.

Killian and Nohano ate their supper quickly, then played a quick game of Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine who got the shower first. Nohano won.

He had to admit, the shower felt wonderful. Water wasn't all bad, after all—only when there was enough of it to drown in! He cranked the water up as hot as he could stand, filling the little bathroom with steam, and relishing in the warmth. Finally, he scrubbed himself down, wincing as he encountered several sore spots, remembering the battle once more. "Those bastards," he thought irritably, unable to muster any more animosity at the moment than that. He was too exhausted.

He collapsed in his hammock while Killian took his turn, and fell into sleep before the water stopped running.

---

The next morning, Nohano was surprised by two things; first, he woke having had no nightmares, and secondly, Gregory was not treating him with open hostility. In fact he spoke very calmly about No Quarter while the fivesome ate breakfast. "I guess we've got to make a decision," he said quietly. Being the unofficial second-in-command, or First Mate as they called it, it now fell to Gregory to manage the group's affairs.

"About...the group?" said Manny cautiously.

"Yeah." The Englishman sighed, running a hand through his long hair. "Phil called my c-phone this morning, said the rest of the Faire had been canceled." No one was surprised in the least. "So we've got a week or two to decide. But...the question is...do we want to continue with No Quarter?"

Nohano did not know how he felt about this. He didn't like sitting here, casually talking about disbanding or not disbanding the group, not with Robert less than a day dead. And as for the decision itself, he didn't know what he wanted. The thought of not singing with No Quarter left him feeling miserable, like he'd lost something dear. But the idea of continuing with Robert gone seemed equally horrible.

"Don't answer now," said Gregory suddenly, looking at Manny and Aaron. He glanced quickly at Nohano, but looked away again. Nohano was a little stung, but he said nothing; it was certainly better than screaming and accusations. "Think of it over the week. We're fine, finance wise, for at least a month, and we've got another gig by then in San Francisco."

San Francisco was where the group lived normally, though not all together. Nohano had normally roomed with Robert, and the other three shared an apartment somewhere across the city.

"We can have an answer by then," said Manny. "We'll take a break from rehearsing and all for a few days."

Gregory nodded, then turned abruptly to Killian. Nohano tensed, afraid for a moment he was going to tell him to get out, but he didn't. "You still want in, if we decide to continue, you're in," he said.

Killian nodded his head politely and managed a smile. "Thanks."

Gregory had said nothing to Nohano, but he obviously wasn't being kicked out, and Nohano didn't think Gregory would ask Killian to stay, if he intended to throw Nohano out of the group. Still, he couldn't help feeling hurt.

Gregory only smiled. "All right then. Robert." He took a big breath and let it out slowly. Nohano shoved the rest of his oatmeal away, no longer hungry. "His family's been notified. His funeral is in two days, two PM."

A funeral. Nohano felt cold at the thought. He had never been to a funeral before, and seemed to be panicking mildly at the idea of attending one. Skipping it wasn't an option, but the idea was almost as frightening as the Dynasty beings had been.

He jumped a little at a hand on his arm, and turned. Killian smiled at him, and a soothing calm came over Nohano. He was becoming more and more certain that Killian's ability to calm people down wasn't just a skill, but a mystical power. He nodded his thanks.

"I'm gonna head out then," said Gregory, standing and bringing his bowl into the kitchen to rinse it out. "I'll be back for supper." Without so much as a goodbye, Gregory left, letting the door shut loudly behind him. Nohano watched him go.

"Hey kid," said Manny, and Nohano turned around to face him. Manny, not good with words, hesitated, then said, "Look—Gregory—ya gotta understand--"

Aaron came to Manny's rescue, articulating the point a little more smoothly. "He doesn't really blame you, Nohano," said Aaron quietly. "Not truly. And he doesn't hate you. Last night when you left, Manny said 'You're not throwing the kid out, are you?' and Gregory said of course not, and not to be stupid."

Nohano scowled. Not that he wanted to be thrown out, but that Gregory wasn't rude only to Nohano, but to the others, who had to be hurting just as badly.

"It's just—well we're all torn up about it. No one ever thought this could happen. Gregory's havin' a hard time dealing with it, you know he's known Robert since they were kids. You just—he knows you, and he saw what happened at the faire--"

"That wasn't Nohano's fault!" Killian exclaimed angrily.

Aaron held up a calming hand. "I know, kid. And Gregory knows it too. But he needed an outlet, he just—he did it all the wrong way."

"We don't blame ya either," Manny put in. "At all. Somehow I don't think you contacted those freaky pricks and said, 'Hey, come try and kill me and my friends!'."

The grim humor should have been inappropriate, but amazingly Nohano found himself chuckling. It was Manny's way, and he appreciated the sentiment.

"He'll come around," said Aaron. "Just...try...try to ignore him."

Nohano nodded, unhappy, but not able to do anything about the whole thing. "I'll try. Thanks."

Manny grinned, though it seemed a tired one. "Seems to me a good day to drown my sorrows in some booze," he said. "Too bad I don't have any. What're you two gonna do?"

"I dunno," said Nohano. "Probably just wander around."

"All right, well...be careful you two, okay?"

Manny had never admonished them to be careful before, but after the day before, Nohano didn't blame him, and he had a really good point. Did they really want to be caught alone? They more than any of them were known to the Dynasty jerks.

"Maybe we'll hang around here," said Nohano with a humorless laugh. "You guys going out?"

"I think so, yeah. You'll have the place to yourselves for once."

That would be all right, Nohano decided. He certainly felt safer inside, and there was even a phone there for the guests' use. The place they were at was a sort of home/hotel. It could be rented for short or long term, and came with appliances and phone. Though Nohano didn't think calling the cops would do him any good if the Dynasty attacked again.

Manny and Aaron left soon thereafter, and Killian and Nohano stayed behind, talking of the events of the previous day. Killian filled Nohano in on what the group had discussed at Amaya's house, and more details about their minor altercation. "I got pretty bloody angry," Killian admitted, looking a little sheepish. "I don't usually get angry like that, but the way she was talking about war, like I didn't know what the word meant just made me see red."

"Bet she felt like an ass once she remembered where you're from and what's happening there," said Nohano in a tone of satisfaction. "That oughta teach her to think before she opens her mouth."

"Yeah," said Killian with a sigh. "I dunno if she really meant it. It's her way of coping. She hides behind the legacy her father or grandfather or whatever left, and behind her traditions. I guess more and more people in Japan are dispensing with the old traditions, and it irritates her."

"Just like Gregory, I'm a convenient scapegoat," said Nohano bitterly.

"'Fraid so. It'll ease though, as we get to know each other better. Amaya needs to learn that martial skills aren't the only ones worth knowing, and that there's plenty _you_ could teach _her_ if she'd come down off her high horse and appreciate the value of what you could teach. I swear, that girl acts like an adult. Sometimes traditions aren't a good thing when they take you too quickly into maturity, or make you forget what's important."

"You have a way with words," said Nohano respectfully.

"Thanks, I try," said Killian with a chuckle. "And you, my mate, need to get a lid on your temper." Nohano blinked and frowned at Killian, but Killian didn't stop. "I'm serious. I mean jeez, I never saw a temper as quick as yours in my life."

Nohano glared for a few moments, even more irritated by the fact that he couldn't dispute the accusation. "Yeah, well, I guess," he muttered when Killian merely gazed at him.

"Anyway," said Killian, now that his point was made, "we talked about this armor. That Middle East girl, Rashida I think her name is, found out a lot about them. Ways to summon the full armor. You were able to get yours because you jumped into that fire. You've got fire armor—that orb is bloody hot, by the way, damn near burned my fingers yesterday—so you got a huge influx of what energies it. Energizes. Whatever. I'd bet if I wore that subgear in a stream...hey I meant to ask you, are there any lakes or streams around here? Preferably away from view?"

Nohano frowned, thinking for several moments. "I think there's a pond somewhere nearby in one of the parks," said Nohano, "but I couldn't say for sure. Maybe a couple of streams. I don't exactly seek them out."

"I'd like to check it out," said Killian. "You don't swim at all, do you?"

Nohano shook his head. "No, I've got that major phobia of water. I don't get too close."

"Not a good thing," said Killian. "You ever get caught in the water..."

Nohano closed his eyes, holding up his hand curtly to stop Killian finishing the sentence. "Don't. Please. I'm serious, it really freaks me out."

Killian looked at him a moment, his head cocked. "You got it bad, huh? You know, I could help you out with that. You know, start out small, get you a little used to the water. I'd feel a lot better if you knew how to swim."

The very idea of voluntarily getting into enough water to swim in made Nohano want to shudder. He didn't even care for baths, preferring to take showers instead. "Maybe," he said noncommittally, and Killian didn't push the issue. "I guess if we're careful, though, we could check out some of the streams around here. I guess you want to try out your armor?"

"Definitely! After seeing yours, I wanna see what mine looks like."

'Japanese airplane.' The phrase drifted into Nohano's mind, and he shook his head. If Killian's looked anything like his, it was going to be really weird.

Thirty minutes later, after having left the guys a note saying where they were going, Nohano and Killian stood in the middle of a largish park, complete with a fountain, a playground, and picnic area, and a foliage-covered gorge with a sizeable stream. Once nearby, Killian didn't seem to need to be told where the stream was, he only headed for the gorge and grinned, looking into the water.

Nohano stayed at the top of the gorge, looking down with a good degree of distaste and hoping that the warlord jerks didn't decide to attack them again, as Killian crept down among the weeds. "Psycho."

"I heard that!" Killian didn't even turn around, only looked around to make sure they weren't being watched, before reaching into his pocket. A moment later, his riot gear had coalesced around him, and he'd leapt into the water. Nohano winced as Killian surfaced, looking happier than he had in several days. He sort of floated on the surface, his eyes closed, a silly grin on his face. "Much better," he said.

Finally, Nohano had to laugh, amazed he could still do so. He looked like some kind of miniature blue whale floating there in the stream. After a moment, Killian righted himself, shaking his hair out of his eyes, and grinned, diving down into the water.

'How can he hold his breath that long?' Nohano thought a minute later, shaking his head and frowning. If Nohano had been the one down there-- The image of him down there, in the depths of the water, murky and cold, soundless, airless... He gasped in a breath, closing his eyes tightly and thinking of the sun instead, letting himself feel the warmth of it above him. 'I'm not in the water. I'm on the warm grass. Sun. Air. No water.' After several moment, it helped enough that he was able to let himself open his eyes again and look at the muddy surface of the stream, though not without a degree of disgust.

There was no sign of Killian, even though the stream could not be that deep, and Nohano was seized with sudden panic. Not even Killian could hold his breath that long, could he? What if he'd hit his head, or gotten caught in some vile undertow, or bitten by a friggin' snake? A hundred different scenarios flashed through Nohano's mind as he stood up, eyes frantically sweeping the water's surface. There was no way he could get down there and find him, if Killian couldn't handle it, Nohano wouldn't be able to! He couldn't even bring himself to get near! Should he run for help?

He had turned to do just that when a sudden splash made him spin back around, his heart feeling like it had leapt out of his throat. At first he wasn't sure what he was seeing, and the confusion made him stop and blink. His mind said that logically it must be Killian, but the sight was odd enough that he wasn't yet making the connection.

The figure was clad almost entirely in the aqua blue of Killian's sub-armor, from head to toe, and Nohano's first impression was that he was looking at a blue unicorn. As he realized it was, indeed, Killian, he began noting the details of the armor, the layered shoulder guards and the raised shield on their tops he assumed was a sort of neck protection. He took in the broad chest plate and the same sort of leg guards Nohano's own armor had. His eyes traveled up to the helmet, which covered the sides of his face and the back of his neck as well, and had a strange sort of unicornish blade-horn on the top. It was the helmet, more than anything, that was strange.

Killian was laughing as he treaded water, looking down at himself in amazement. "Completely ace," Killian whispered, obviously delighted with the armor. "Nohano, I don't even have to breathe when I've got this thing on underwater! It sucks the oxygen out of the water, or something!"

"You scared the hell out of me!" Nohano exclaimed, relieved and angry and amused all at the same time. "I thought you'd drowned or something!"

The smiled faded on Killian's face, replaced with one of repentance. "Sorry, mate," he said. "Guess I lost track of time down there. But this—this is great. I feel like I've just slept for about ten hours, then drunk five cups of coffee." Laughing, the boy climbed up out of the water to sit next to Nohano, who glanced behind them to make sure they were alone.

"I know how you feel," he finally said, remembering his own armor. "I'll stick with fire, thanks."

Killian pointed a white-clad finger at him. "I will teach you to swim," he said. "Eventually."

"In the meantime, you should probably lose the armor," said Nohano, looking around once more. "The last thing we need to do is attract attention."

"Er—how?"

"Same way you get rid of the riot gear." He'd called it "riot gear" from the beginning, and probably wasn't going to stop any time soon. He watched as Killian concentrated for a moment, the armor sort of melting away into the riot gear, and then to Killian's clothing. "Now we just gotta figure out how to call it when we're nowhere near the water. Or fire, or whatever. You said that Rashida girl, she had some ideas?"

Killian nodded. "We have to find the armor's name, and call it by name. Like the Russian kid—is he an albino? He looks like it, kinda, but his eyes are blue, not pink."

Nohano shrugged. "Ask him I guess. Anyway, you were saying?"

"Well, his armor's name is—well I forget the word, it's Japanese. But his armor is earth and stone, and the name means 'diamond'."

Comprehension widened Nohano's eyes. "I get it!" he said. "Kinda like uber-stone."

"Exactly. So you, being Wildfire, and me being Torrent...we just gotta figure out the right Japanese terms. I figure Amaya or Suisei could help us with that." Nohano wasn't all that willing to ask Amaya anything, but didn't say so. Killian still seemed to know how he was feeling anyway, because he added, "Suisei, if you're not up to talking with Amaya yet."

Nohano blinked, cocking his head. "You reading my thoughts?"

Looking surprised, Killian said, "Well no, of course not. Not on purpose, anyway. I can't believe it, I almost forgot about that. You think that's...that it's the armor, or do you think it's some kind of weird gift we have?"

"Maybe it's a little of both."

"We should try and strengthen it. It'd be right useful if we got it mastered and one of us needed the other. Then we wouldn't have to worry about c-phones." "C-phones" being the term for cell phones, which were now more common than "landlines" as the old-fashioned phones were called.

Killian had a point, Nohano realized. "Let's go to the library," said Nohano, "and look up some Japanese words."

Half an hour later, the two boys had compiled a list of words that took up two sides of a piece of printer paper they'd borrowed surreptitiously from the copier. They'd both had a good time finding the Japanese books and dictionaries, and looking up all the words they could find that had to do with their armor. They'd begun to forget, or at least to put into a less horrible perspective, the events of the day previous as they researched. One of them would snicker and nudge the other on seeing the translation of a swear word or other equally amusing word, and as a result there were a few impolite things written on the list as well.

"Here's what yours must be," Nohano said after a moment, smirking and shoving the large dictionary over for Killian to read.

Interested, Killian looked at the definition, reading in a voice that quickly turned from curiosity to indignation. "_Gesuikouji_," he pronounced awkwardly, the Japanese word sounding even more alien in his Australian accent. It was then the indignation hit. "_Sewer_ works!"

Nohano could barely contain the snicker as Killian looked sharply up to glare at him. Shaking slightly with restrained laughter, Nohano shrugged. "Hey...it's right there with all the water words." The dictionary had words grouped by similarity, not alphabet.

Killian muttered something that was not a compliment, and refused to give the book back. Instead he began looking over the section Nohano had found, his eyes narrowed. Nohano might have normally worried that he was angry, but for some reason, he knew Killian was trying very hard not to appear as amused as he was.

So instead, Nohano grabbed another from their pile of books.

When they went home that night, they endured a rather tense supper, during which no one spoke much. Afterwards, Nohano and Killian retreated to the corner they'd staked out as their own, poring over their list and speculating how they'd know if they had the right name.

"I need to ask Rashida if you just...call the thing, or what," said Killian.

"We need to meet," said Nohano suddenly. "I mean all of us, and start getting this thing figured out.

"Yeah," said Killian. "But not...not yet." Nohano looked down at him from his hammock, frowning in bewilderment. "Well, the others are going about getting lodging, and, well...you've got the funeral to go to. We need to all sorta...get our stuff done."

Mention of the funeral set Nohano's spirits plummeting within a second to fairly content to absolutely miserable. Killian shot an apologetic look his way, but it wasn't Killian's fault. He was right, really. Nohano wasn't going to be able to concentrate on this crap with Robert's funeral hanging over him. "Yeah," he said quietly, taking their list and rising from his hammock, going over to stuff the list into his suitcase. "I just hope we won't need it again before that."

"Don't even think that," said Killian, his eyes wide and his hands held up. "I've seen enough of those jerks to last me a lifetime."

Nohano nodded in complete agreement, lying down on his hammock and letting the slight sway soothe him into a state of semi-sleep. He listened to Gregory talking to someone on his c-phone, Manny and Aaron playing a card game of sort, and Killian softly singing one of the sea shanties he'd been learning. He found that the sounds were comforting, and kept himself awake a little longer than he'd intended to, listening to them. 'My life has become totally surreal,' he thought before his eyes finally drifted closed.


	15. Dark Brotherhood

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 15: Dark Brotherhood**

Kale could not put into words how dismal his failure had been. Even as he had called the retreat, he dreaded Talpa's anger, his disappointment, and the punishment he would endure for his inadequacy. And worse than all of that was Kale's disgust with himself, thinking that he deserved whatever he would get. Always overconfident in his abilities, both as a leader and as a warrior, in the last decades he bad begun to turn some of the surface arrogance into true pride for his abilities. When he watched the lesser warlords execute a fighting move he had taught them, or when he and the other two warlords worked out a battle tactic, he felt pride both for them and himself.

But when he did badly, especially something as important as this mission had been, his disappointment in himself ran deep.

When Kale called his forces back into retreat, phasing himself back into the corrupted realm he called home, he understood that Talpa knew exactly what had happened. His rage could be felt in every corner of the Nether World, and Kale winced on feeling it. The lesser warlords looked at him with fear in their eyes. They had never felt Talpa's rage at its strongest, but they well knew what happened when Talpa was displeased.

Kale took a big breath and looked to Dais and Sekhmet, neither of whom looked too thrilled themselves. They didn't need to speak. Kale turned to the lower ranks and told them to wait outside, then closed his eyes and appeared in Talpa's throne room.

He knelt immediately on appearing in the room, catching the flashes on either side of him that indicated Dais and Sekhmet had also arrived and knelt. Without even looking up, Kale spoke. "My master, I have no excuse. I will take full responsibility for our failure."

It had not been an easy decision to make. He remembered a time when he would have gladly blamed one of the others for his failure, at the very least ensuring they shared his punishment, but he had learned a great deal in the past hundred years. He had come to stop thinking of Dais and Sekhmet as his rivals, and begun thinking of them as comrades. Even friends, though he would not come right out and say so.

Even Talpa was taken aback by Kale's declaration; he could sense the demon's surprise as easily as he had felt his rage. He looked up briefly and saw Sekhmet's astonished expression, and heard Dais utter, "Kale--", but Kale did not reply. He only looked up at Talpa, who peered down at him for only a moment before nodding grimly. Kale squeezed his eyes shut as a blast of dark energy engulfed him, and he was gone from the room.

Talpa turned to Dais and Sekhmet, both of which looked more afraid than either would ever admit to feeling. "Get out of my sight," said Talpa disgustedly. "Dais. You will ensure the underlings are reprimanded for this failure as well."

"Yes, Master," said Dais, bowing low before hurrying out of the throne room. He caught sight of Sekhmet doing the same, then jogging to meet Dais outside the room, though neither of them said anything.

Dais was quite caught up in his own thoughts, conflicting and overwhelming in his mind. His feelings about Kale's actions were extremely mixed; his first thought was annoyance at what at first seemed to be a senseless act of pride. At the first, Dais thought Kale had done so to curry favor, or admiration for his bravery, or responsibility, or whatever it was he was trying to show off.

The conflict came when Dais remembered the look Kale had given him when he spoke Kale's name. It had been a look not of annoyance or one telling him to mind his place; he was a look of concern. He truly did not want Dais and Sekhmet to endure the punishment he knew was coming. 'He was doing what he thought he must,' Dais thought, nodding his head. Once he got over his initial, childish resentment, Dais found himself respecting Kale for it.

He would not let Kale do it again, however. The next time, he would share in the responsibility—and hoped Sekhmet would as well. A team, as they should have been from the very start.

When Dais brought himself back to his surroundings, he noted he and Sekhmet had gone outside, and Dais hadn't even realized it. He also realized that Sekhmet was in the middle of a rant, as usual. "And what did he think he was pulling? He's already in charge!"

"He wasn't 'pulling' anything," said Dais irritably. He felt a little silly being annoyed, since he himself had had the exact same thoughts Sekhmet was voicing. He paused for a moment as Sekhmet gave him a glare, and forced the annoyance from his tone. "He wasn't."

Sekhmet's look was more suspicious now than angry, and he stopped, looking at Dais. Dais stopped also, peering mildly at Sekhmet with his good eye. "What do you mean, he wasn't? Of course he was, why else--"

"Think," said Dais. "You said it yourself: he's already leader. It would be stupid for him to willingly endure the kind of pain Master Talpa inflicts for failure, as it would curry him no favor. He gains nothing from taking full responsibility for the entire group."

"Oh, I suppose he was being honorable," said Sekhmet, the sarcasm dripping from his words like the venom dripped from his armor.

"Yes," said Dais seriously. Once it was said aloud, it made sense. Kale believed what he fought for with all his spirit, and to him, it _was_ a matter of honor. And, Dais admitted to himself, it was the same with himself. "Have you learned nothing, Sekhmet? Nothing in five hundred years?" He was glad to see a look of shame and indignation settle on Sekhmet's face. "We've learned to work together. We've even learned to be a team. But only now are we learning the most important part of all of this; brotherhood." Dais shook his head wonderingly at his own words. Never would he have thought he would preach about brotherhood to another warlord. Never. But he did not regret it. He was right, and he knew it, and if he had to ram it physically into Sekhmet's head, he would see to it that Sekhmet understood it, too! Kale had been the first. Had it really taken Dais that long to truly comprehend?

Sekhmet's face was set into a deep scowl, though Dais wasn't sure if it was really aimed at Dais, his words, or the situation in general. He opened his mouth a couple of times, clearly wanting to retort, to argue, but finally only sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "Brother."

Anger rose in Dais's throat at the sarcasm, but he swallowed it and nodded. Sarcastic or not, it was more than he'd gotten before from Sekhmet. "Come on," he said with a sigh. "We need to talk to the lessers." That's what the three ranking warlords usually called the lower ranks out of their earshot, the "lessers". They were lesser; lesser in rank, age, and experience.

Seemingly eager for the change in subject, Sekhmet nodded his head and followed Dais's lead.

Outside the palace, on the large, bare stretch of rock the warlords used for their training sessions, all seven of the lesser warlords had waited for word from Master Talpa. One of the Americans, Moral Sullivan, looked worried and tense. Others, like Heath Jenkins and Vittorio Digaetano, hid their anxiety behind a casual mask of indifference. Jin Tanaka, her face showing no expression as usual, quietly went through several katana exercises, ignoring everyone else.

Tai Shuang and Cade Taylor had started fighting with each other to expend their own fearful energy; Shuang had arrogantly let Cade use his chain weight while he fought unarmed. Both indignant and amused, Cade had taken the weapon, and they were currently battling towards the end of the slab. Haazita Mushota watched the fight with a grin on her face, yelling both encouragement and friendly insults at the pair in her own language. It was clear neither of them understood everything, but enough to throw an indignant reply back every once in a while.

Dais and Sekhmet approached, watching the scene for a few minutes. Sekhmet looked somewhere between exasperated and amused, but Dais felt no amusement at all. He did not normally mind the fighting between Shuang and Cade, and sometimes between the others. He did not normally disdain the friendly insults, or the arrogant masks the others wore. But there was a time and place for everything, and this was neither the time nor place for any of it!

He didn't even think. He stepped forward and silently armored up, grabbing the scythe fan from his back and sending its blades crashing into the cliff face that bordered one side of the training slab. The lesser warlords all stopped immediately, spinning around to look at Dais as he called, "Tou chi mou!"

Fine strands of webbing spun from the scythe blades, too quickly to be reacted to, and bound all seven of the startled warriors where they stood. He glared at them each in turn, striding forward and taking in the scene. "Have any of you _any_ idea how serious our battle is? Our war? Do you know how dearly our failure might have cost our master? How dare you take this day so lightly?"

After a moment's surprised pause, Sekhmet stepped up to stand at Dais's side, a quiet show of support. Dais appreciated the gesture, his annoyance with the younger warlord dissipating a bit. He turned his attention then back to the lessers, glaring first at Vittorio and Heath. "How nonchalantly you two take our defeat," he said caustically, narrowing his eye. "Does it mean nothing to you? If nothing else, does your pride so easily accept that you were sent running like frightened children by a pack of untrained whelps?" Dais was gratified to see a look of outrage on Vittorio's face, and a sudden flush on Heath's.

"And you," said Sekhmet, nodding disgustedly to Moral, who looked terrified. "Find some courage, boy! By the gods, you were selected by Master Talpa himself to serve him—you are a warlord of the Dynasty! If your soul truly bears no courage, at least learn to hide your cowardice."

Dais nodded in approval as Moral blushed, glaring down at his feet; Dais turned then to Shuang and Cade, both of whom wore nearly identical expressions of sheepishness. "There is a time and a place for everything," said Dais quietly to them. His quiet voice was sometimes worse than his shouting, because the fury showed more brilliantly through. "I came out here hoping to fix the problem, the problem that caused our failure today, and I come out to see you two cavorting like a pair of tiger cubs!" Dais's voice rose angrily as he spoke, and he gave a slight jerk of his extendable scythes, constricting the webs around Cade and Shuang painfully for a few moments before setting the pair loose. They at least managed not to cry out, and both bowed in hasty repentance.

Haazita stood behind them, looking smug, and Dais turned then to her. "Don't think I didn't notice your egging them on," he said disgustedly, releasing the rest of the webs, and she shrugged. Dais narrowed his eye. "I don't care how much the sight of fighting excites you, woman, you'll leave if for the appropriate time!"

This time Haazita flushed, visible even on her dark skin, and she nodded, narrowing her eyes. Compliance, for now, but she wasn't happy about it.

Finally, Dais and Sekhmet turned to Jin Tanaka, who returned their gaze evenly. There was no defiance or disrespect in her face, and she simply stood watching them, as if ready to listen to whatever reprimand they might have for her. Dais looked to Sekhmet, who only shrugged a little as if to say, "Beats me." Dais knew how he felt. There was something about Jin that screamed non-conformity, but it was nearly impossible to pin down. Her ways were traditional, her goals aligned perfectly with the rest of the group, and she did what she was told. And yet...

"Deal with the rest of these half-wits," said Dais to Sekhmet, giving a strong tug and retracting the scythes and replacing the scythe-fan on his back. "I wish to speak with Jin away from the others.

Sekhmet nodded in acknowledgement, and they briefly clasped the other's forearm before parting ways. Sekhmet summoned the six lessers, who followed him from the slab, all looking appropriately contrite, and Dais walked up to speak with Jin.

At first he did not mention the fight or their failure. He asked questions about her wishes and how she viewed the others. He asked her feelings on Talpa, and of what she wanted for the Dynasty. He watched her eyes, her stance, and listened carefully to her words and tone of voice. As he talked, he began to realize what, exactly, the problem was.

It was her mask. Not the mask she wore with her armor, but the mask she wore that hid her real self from the others. He had rarely seen that mask crack, and more often than not it was when she lost her temper with one of the other lessers. Dais understood the mask. There was a certainty amount of vulnerability involved in showing one's true self to anyone, even the smallest bit. It had taken him quite a while to show himself to his new comrades. But this woman—this woman was an icicle. If she cared for any of the other warlords, she didn't show it. If she cared about the Dynasty, she didn't show it. She did exactly as she should, and worked hard to train and ready herself for her battles—but that was all she did. If she had hobbies, Dais didn't know about them, and when she was not training, she locked herself in her quarters.

No one seemed to know how to deal with someone like that, and so kept an awkward distance. Dais had no idea whatsoever what to do about it, either. He would need to speak with Kale—when he was released from the dungeon—and brainstorm on ideas. Kale seemed to know best among them how to deal with other people. Dais was half tempted to have Sekhmet concoct some kind of drug to lower the woman's damned shield.

When the conversation was over, Dais admonished Jin to try harder the next time she fought, and she assured him that she would. He dismissed her to her quarters, and she walked off with cold assuredness towards the castle.

"I'm not a warlord," he muttered to himself as he also headed back. "I'm a wet-nurse."

When he met later with Sekhmet, Venom reported that he confined them to their quarters for the day and said they should think about what Dais had said to them that day, and come to a decision about when it was appropriate to play. Sekhmet chuckled. "I think you really got through to a couple of them," he said. "Shuang and the kid were good-natured enough about it, said they were sorry for acting like...'dorks', I believe the kid said."

Dais laughed aloud, surprising both Sekhmet and himself. Sometimes the others' language took him aback. It wasn't as if he were completely unused to modern language, but he _was_ unused to so many languages, and "dork" was a new one to him.

"I know," said Sekhmet, chuckling. "Some of those English words."

"Yes. They have a way with words at times. Crude ones, certainly." The language barrier had been quite a challenge to get around at first. Talpa had of course been able to see to it they all understood one another, but the differences in language were still obvious, and very distracting. Everyone had since learned Japanese, even Moral, who had been here the least time. But all of them, even the senior warlords, had learned a little bit of the others' languages. Sekhmet seemed to enjoy the Italian swear words, and Cade—well Cade already knew all of the represented languages, and then some. Dais shook his head, looking to Sekhmet. "When Kale returns, we'll gather them and go over exactly why we were not successful. We cannot have a repeat of this humiliation."

Serious again, Sekhmet agreed. "Those brats will pay for this," he vowed. "They're untrained and inexperienced. Seemed to me they all kinda got thrown into this whole "Ronin" thing. They're no warriors. Not yet."

"We need to teach a brutal lesson," he said. "Show no mercy in dealing with them. Perhaps after the agony of your poisons or my blades, or Kale's lightning slash, they'll be reconsidering their choices."

Sekhmet smiled nastily at the idea. "Heath and I have been working on a couple of new venoms. I think I'll go down to my apothecary tonight and do some work on them." He chuckled. "Guess that's about all to be done until Master Talpa tells us the next plan."

It was true. What needed to be done was done, and now all they had to do was wait, wait until Kale was released, and Talpa decided what he wanted to do next.

---

Kale was no stranger to the passages and chambers and dungeons beneath the palace; Talpa had reconstructed his fortress exactly as it had been, down to the last stone.

There were several chambers and traps beneath the fortress, used to restrain or cage up an unwary enemy, and Kale had often made good use of them when fighting the last group of Ronin Warriors. But it was not only the enemies of Talpa who saw the dungeons below. Those of his servants who greatly displeased him were sent there as well, to be corrected.

Dark energy phased his physical self out of being, reforming it in one of the many chambers below, one Kale recognized well. The Ronin themselves had once been prisoners here; at least three of them had, victim to the Nether Spirits Kale could see beginning to crowd around. He looked up at the binders of dark energy that bound his hands above him, and down to his body, which was clad only in his sub-armor. He looked back up, not bothering to hide his fear, as they swooped down.

He'd experienced something similar once when he and the others had asked Talpa for more power, and had never asked again, not realizing what a horror it was to endure. It had empowered him, yes, but the agony wasn't worth it.

As the first spirit began to pour its energy into Kale, he groaned, closing his eyes in anticipation. One was bearable, but the pain increased twofold for every spirit that joined. This time he felt the dark power, but it gave him no strength, only pain and weakness.

Two more joined the first, as the Nether Spirits were as restless as the warlords, and eager to have a victim. Kale screamed for the first time as the fourth joined in. He could feel every wisp of evil seep into his bones, his muscles, his very mind and spirit. It fueled his fury, his darkest emotions, even as it seared his mind with pain.

His knees buckled, putting the entirety of his weight on his bound wrists, but he scarcely felt it, lost already in the swirling blackness the Nether Spirits brought.

Kale lost all track of time, each second the same as the one before it. He could form no thoughts, no words; he could only endure. He hated Talpa for it, even as he felt he deserved it for his failure and weakness. But the one thing that burned the most fiercely was his hatred for the dirty, wretched little brats who managed to humiliate him and his warlords. He longed to have them in here, the energy from his longsword coursing through them...

The very satisfying vision fractured beneath a new onslaught of pain.

---

That night, lying on the pallet he slept upon in his quarters, Sekhmet stared up at the ceiling. A strange sort of anxiety was keeping him awake, and he could not identify its source. It was possible it was a combination of things; the apparent irreverence of the younger warlords, their humiliating debacle, their leader being at that moment punished in the dungeon... Sekhmet scowled darkly as he thought about Dais's scolding earlier, lecturing Sekhmet about brotherhood and unity. He resented being reprimanded for not playing nice with the others.

Though...he wouldn't admit it to Dais, he could see the older man's point. Even Sekhmet had to admit to himself that he was far happier when they weren't fighting like cats and dogs. As much as he enjoyed conflict, there was, as Dais often said, a time and place for everything. He sighed and sat up, feeling sulky, and lit the lamp beside his pallet, staring moodily at the walls. Why did they fight, anyway? Sibling rivalry? Sekhmet laughed quietly, imagining them having been raised as children, competing for their parents' attention. But his smile faded quickly at the unflattering vision, realizing it was truer than he'd at first thought. They _had_ all competed for Talpa's favor. How ridiculous must that have looked? Even Kale, who was already their leader once Anubis betrayed them and was killed, had fought constantly.

His thoughts brought to Kale, Dais allowed himself to analyze exactly how it was he felt about Kale. He'd loathed the man at first, his smug demeanor, his smooth ways. He hated Kale's seniority over him, and how he managed to make Sekhmet look foolish more often than he would have liked. Sekhmet was the youngest, the least ranked of the four, and Kale in particular never let him forget it at first. Of course that never stopped Sekhmet from speaking his mind, even to Talpa himself. It got him into more trouble than the others, too, but he didn't care. He wasn't the kind to stay silent if he had something he wanted to say.

But as they fought side by side, watched one another fail or succeed, watched their skill grow—they still hated each other half the time, but those times were less and less. Sekhmet remembered all the times that Talpa had set them against one another, so subtly encouraging their competition, bestowing favor to he who pleased him the most. Sekhmet wondered why he had done so, if he'd wanted a unified team. Talpa must have feared what would happen if they ever banded together against him.

Why the difference now? Not only had Talpa begun "encouraging" them to work together and quit squabbling, but he'd recruited seven others and done the same thing with them. 'Master Talpa must be confident in his abilities to control us,' Sekhmet thought. 'He has grown quite strong again. Maybe stronger than ever.' He did not understand why Talpa should worry, why he should fear them. Sekhmet, for one, felt nothing but loyalty for Master Talpa. He might sass him on occasion, or protest his decisions, but his true loyalty never wavered. He knew it was the same with the others as well; Dais was always more cautious than the others, speaking carefully and weighing his actions, throwing his caution to the winds only when trying to please Talpa.

And Kale...

Once again, Sekhmet's thoughts were wrenched back to Kale. He supposed Kale _was_ honorable, doing what he believed, and doing his best to lead. Since the lessers had joined them, Sekhmet had for the first time found himself in a leadership position. He could far better appreciate Kale's burden! Now that Talpa had stopped distracting the warlords with enmity and formed them into a team, Kale's own code of honor was able to shine unhindered. 'Master Talpa didn't even need to punish him,' he thought after a moment. 'Kale's probably miserable enough about our failure.'

Sekhmet sighed and rolled over to try and sleep, blowing out the lamp that sat next to his bed. He adjusted his position so that the breastplate of his sub-armor didn't dig into his side; he didn't always sleep half-armored, but when he was feeling in any way discontent, he usually did, and tonight he was quite discontent.

Sleep had nearly claimed him when the first echo shot through his head, and he sat bolt upright, his eyes wide. A scream. It had been a scream, and a frightening echo of soul-deep pain. Sekhmet lurched to his feet, and had nearly armored up, when the feeling faded. He stood, shaken by the strange, sudden phenomenon, and stood quietly, listening.

Several minutes later, it had happened again, more solid this time, and definitely in Sekhmet's own head. Sekhmet did not often admit fear, sometimes not even to himself, but he had never experienced anything like this. Was it Master Talpa? Had he caught Sekhmet's thoughts about him? He had never done so before, but that didn't mean he could not do so now. "What in the hells?" he hissed.

It was not until he heard a shrieked curse that he realized with astonished horror what he was experiencing; Sekhmet was feeling what Kale was going through down below. He felt a chill as the pain seemed to intensify, Kale's pain almost searing into Sekhmet's own soul; Sekhmet shivered, remembering his own experiences with Talpa's punishment, and feeling inexplicably upset at listening to Kale enduring it. _Still_ enduring it. He had been sent below hours ago!

The most instinctive of the warlords, Sekhmet understood it must be the armor that was allowing them to link, perhaps bringing out an innate talent in the warlords themselves. The Ronin were able to connect like this, he knew, but the warlords never had. Why now? Was it truly a sign of brotherhood?

Another scream echoed through Sekhmet's head, sending a chill through him, and he knelt down on the floor with his eyes closed—he could not bring himself to do nothing while Kale suffered for a mistake they had all made. He had scoffed at the idea of honor, but it was entirely different to listen to Kale's screams of pain, and feel the soul-deep suffering the Nether Spirits inflicted. He shivered when he thought about Kale down there, enduring the pain, and found it upset him a great deal.

Not the most patient nor calm of the group, it was difficult, but he tried his best to focus and solidify the connection. He didn't think he would be able to speak with Kale, not as distracted as Kale would be, but if he could help ease the punishment somehow. He didn't know how to do it, he only did what seemed to feel right. He imagined looking at Kale, imagined grasping his shoulder, offering his strength. He envisioned the Nether Spirits, feeling his lip curl at the thought of them; those he had always loathed. He imagined taking some of their dark energy into himself, deflecting it from Kale.

It was several minutes, as Sekhmet was able to focus and calm himself, that he was able to discern a marked difference in Kale's feel. The half-mad, frantic fury, pain, and fear lessened; Sekhmet's mental presence was helping to keep them at bay!

He didn't know how long he kept it up. He felt Dais's presence join the link not long thereafter, though he wasn't sure Dais completely realized that Sekhmet was there. There was no actual communication, no words or even thoughts. Only feelings. Dais was trying to do the same thing that Sekhmet was, though lacking Sekhmet's natural intuition, wasn't sure what to do. Sekhmet took a big breath and focused for a moment on Dais, trying to share with him what he had done to share the burden. It seemed to have worked, for then they were both there, lending Kale their strength. They could not take the pain, but they could help Kale endure it.

The feeble light of the Nether Realm's sun had begun to glow weakly through Sekhmet's window before it stopped. The pain stopped abruptly, as if Kale had either been transported from the chambers below, or the Nether Spirits had all backed off at once, and Kale's mind went from pain to acute exhaustion. Sekhmet quickly withdrew his presence from Kale's mind, for some reason not wanting to be "caught" there. He felt faintly embarrassed—it was new to him to be like this. Not for hundreds of years had he cared about someone like this. And he hadn't really known it until now!

A strange sense of isolation came over Sekhmet as he withdrew, alone in his mind once more. Slumping against the wall, greatly wearied himself, he let himself wonder at what he had done, and even more astonishingly that he was glad he'd done it! Was this what the Ronin Warriors felt in their bond? Was this why they fought to the death for one another, and fought as if they were one person, not five?

Unable to keep his eyes open, Sekhmet lay down on his pallet, drifting into sleep. But his musings followed him into slumber, and stayed on his mind through the morning.

Sekhmet did not wake until it was nearly noon, astonished he had slept so long. 'Well, I didn't really sleep until dawn, did I?' he thought, remembering the events of the night. He wondered if Kale realized when he had Dais had done, and if he did, what he had thought of it. Would he be irritated that they'd shared the punishment that he intended to take on himself? Would he appreciate the efforts, or be embarrassed? Sekhmet tried to imagine how Kale _would_ react, and found he could not. It wasn't anything that had ever happened among the three.

Kale gathered Dais and Sekhmet that afternoon, looking exhausted still, and strangely uncertain. 'He knows," thought Sekhmet suddenly, feeling uncertain himself. 'At least he suspects.' He looked at Dais, whose expression was not readable. Kale frowned, opened his mouth to speak, then sighed. Sekhmet caught Dais's eye, and saw that Dais knew exactly what had happened last night. A shrewd one, he, making up for a lack of instinct with shrewdness and wit.

Kale was no fool, either, and finally he spoke. "Last night..." he began hesitantly.

Kale didn't seem to know how to begin, and Sekhmet didn't blame him. What was he supposed to say? "Hey, were you guys in my head last night?" It wasn't something easily asked. With a mental shrug, Sekhmet decided to speak up instead. "Dais and I heard you last night. Mentally. We...well I did anyway, not sure how Dais knew...I heard you. Mentally."

He looked at Dais, who nodded grimly. "Yes. Both of us did, though Sekhmet felt it first."

Kale gazed at them both in disbelief. "It _was_ you," he said wonderingly, and Sekhmet wondered briefly if he was shocked that they'd formed a mental bond, or that they had helped through his ordeal. "Both of you...giving me strength, staving off the Nether Spirits' energy..."

Sekhmet felt his face grown warm, and he sort of shrugged, nodding. "Yeah, it was us. Well—I couldn't just—do nothing."

Dais was a little more eloquent; Sekhmet finally understood what he had said the day previous, ideas of brotherhood that sounded shallow and meaningless in words. But he had truly felt it last night, and understood it now completely. "We won't let you take the blame next time, Kale," said Dais. "Neither of us. You don't take credit when we all succeed, you won't take the blame when we don't." As Kale opened his mouth to protest, Dais held up a curt hand. "No, Kale—not this time. You lead us, but on this one, you're overridden."

Kale's expression was strange: pride and astonishment, uncertainly and even fondness. He smiled tiredly, saying nothing, and Sekhmet realized that no words were needed now. Everything that needed to be said had been, and any more would just cheapen their brotherhood.

So Sekhmet said something else instead. "I wonder if we can actually speak with this new link."

"I think we must be able to," said Dais. "The Ronin Warriors can speak, I believe, with a similar link. We should work on this—how many times have we needed to contact one another, unable to because of distance?"

"It's true, it would be a great asset..." Kale did not come out and say that it was a great comfort as well, but the unspoken words seemed to hover in the air just the same.

Sekhmet grinned suddenly while Dais and Kale talked, stepping back and summoning his armor. He closed his eyes, trying to recapture how it had felt to connect with Kale's mind. How _had_ he done it, anyway? He had imagined Kale's physical being, but surely he could simply sense Kale's presence, now that he knew what it felt like, and not have to go through the tedious series of steps. He tried it, delighted when he suddenly felt Kale within his mind—it was such a bizarre sensation, both frightening and pleasant at the same time. He grinned impishly and projected a thought, as he had projected his strength the night before.

Fear the might of Sekhmet!

Dais and Kale both spun around at the sudden, sinister cry inside their own heads, staring at Sekhmet, who laughed in sheer delight. "What did you do?" Kale hissed, his eyes wide with surprise.

"All I did was think," said Sekhmet, grinning behind his mask. "We were right, our armors have linked. Or we've linked. Either way—try it. Think deliberately, aim your thoughts at Dais and at me."

Kale and Dais exchanged a slightly uncertain look. Sekhmet knew that they were a little more cautious of new things than Sekhmet, but they'd already felt the bond, and had no reason to fear it.

So Kale tried first, closing his eyes and thinking carefully, Do you hear me? He was only in his sub-armor, but the words echoed clearly in Sekhmet's mind, and he wondered if they even needed to be in the armor at all. Smiling slowly, Kale opened his eyes and peered at the other two warlords. "Excellent," he said quietly.

"We must work on strengthening this link," said Dais as Sekhmet banished his armor. "One more factor on our side."

Cade and Shuang fighting.

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	16. Changes

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 16: Changes**

In Irwindale, California, the days crawled by. Nohano was woken up one night by a cry from Killian, and he sat up in his hammock, nearly falling out onto the floor. Killian was balled up on the floor, his arms over his head, whimpering with fear. At once concerned for his friend, Nohano slipped out of the hammock and knelt by Killian, grasping his shoulder and shaking him. It wasn't easy; Killian was curled up so tightly that Nohano barely moved him.

"Killian!' he whispered, shaking him a little more vigorously. "Killian, wake up—it's okay!"

The Australian boy sat so suddenly that the back of his head crashed into Nohano's jaw. His teeth clicked together and he recoiled with a sharp yelp. Gregory muttered something, and Nohano glanced around to see he had wakened the guys with his outburst.

"Everything all right?" Aaron asked, frowning, as Killian stared wildly around, his face wet, shining slightly in the feeble street light from outside the window.

"I-I think so," said Nohano, turning back to Killian and grasping his shoulders. Killian looked absolutely terrified, and Nohano wondered what he could have been dreaming about. "Hey—you all right?"

Killian burst into tears, hunching over as he knelt on the floor, his head in his hands. "I want my parents...I want my mum and dad!"

At first Nohano was shocked at the sudden misery, but realized that Killian had not showed much of any reaction to talking about his country or his family. Nohano wondered how he could keep it all in for so long! It was a wonder he hadn't cracked before this! And then he remembered how Killian had comforted _him_ last night—how could Nohano have been so thoughtless as to assume that Killian was okay? He'd gone through more than Nohano had!

Feeling his own eyes burn, Nohano crouched besides his friend and held him, not too surprised when Killian turned and sobbed into his nightshirt. Nohano had never had parents he was particularly close to. His foster parents were friendly enough, and affectionate, but it was an impartial affection. Even Robert was more a brother than a parent. He didn't know how it felt, afraid that you'd lost your mother and father.

He didn't know what to say, but it turned out he didn't really have to say anything. He just held Killian while he cried. He watched the rest of the guys settle back down in their beds, after giving Killian a sympathetic glance or two, and looked back down to Killian.

The boy's straw-blond hair was hanging in his eyes, and Nohano brushed it back, tucking it behind Killian's ears. He reached over and snagged a corner of his blanket, pulling it down from the hammock, and wrapping it around Killian.

Soon Killian began to quiet, but Nohano still said nothing, not until Killian sniffled and wiped his hand across his eyes. "Gods, I miss them," he whispered, hitching in his chest. Nohano leaned over to grab the box of tissues he kept nearby and plucked one out for Killian.

"I can't imagine how it feels," said Nohano quietly. "I'm-I can't believe I never asked you before if you were, you know, okay. I'm sorry, I can be pretty thoughtless sometimes."

Killian shook his head, blowing his nose, and shifting into a more comfortable sitting position. He didn't leave Nohano's embrace, however. "Don't blame yourself, Nohano," he said. "I didn't even know, I mean I thought I was doing okay. They're dead, Nohano. I think I've known it ever since that last attack. But how can you just accept that? How can you just...believe it? I don't want to! And if I try to convince myself they're alive, and then I find out for sure--"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey—easy. Don't think about it just now, 'Lian." The nickname just sorta popped out. It was easy to use an affectionate nickname when speaking to someone who was hurting so badly. "Try not to think of anything. I'm right here with ya."

Shivering, Killian curled up at Nohano's side. "I was dreaming of the attack," he said. "Not the tsunami. I liked the tsunami."

'Insane,' Nohano thought, but didn't say anything.

"But just...and that's not the first attack. It's been going on so long, I just--"

"Hey." Nohano's voice was far firmer this time, and he pulled Killian away just long enough to give him a "don't argue with me" look. "Not just now, okay?" he said gently. "For now just try and calm down, okay?" He smiled and swept Killian's hair out of his eyes once more, and was rewarded with a weak smile.

"Okay," Killian whispered, returning to Nohano's side.

The Australian boy was quiet then, and Nohano closed his eyes, which were a little damp. He wiped quickly at them, but did not leave Killian's side, even when Killian's breathing began to even out into sleep. Instead he just curled up on the floor nearby and closed his eyes. The adrenaline that had coursed on being so suddenly woken was ebbing, and he was remembering that it was way too early to be awake.

That night seemed to cement their friendship. They'd shared their minds, they'd shared misery and comfort. Nohano didn't think that anyone could do that and not bond, unless one or both of the people involved were devoid of emotion. But then a person devoid of emotion wouldn't have been able to share any of that to begin with.

Killian went with Nohano to Robert's funeral that day, and he was never so grateful. He had seen funerals on television, but never been to one in his life. The casket was open, something he hadn't been prepared for, and it was a shock to see Robert lying there, his eyes closed, as if he were just taking a nap. Killian had to gently tug Nohano to a seat.

Neither boy was wearing a suit or a tie, because neither of them owned one. Robert had been dressed up in one though, which made Nohano clench his fists; he had never seen Robert in a suit, and he doubted Robert would have enjoyed wearing one! It would have been more appropriate to dress him in his No Quarter garb. It was more Robert. But he said nothing, only sat numbly as the rest of the guests arrived.

The ceremony was short. Robert's mother and two older sisters were there, crying silently through the whole funeral, which only made Nohano cry harder. He tried to listen to the nice things the priest was saying, but couldn't seem to focus on them. All he could see was Robert's white face, and all he could hear was him singing in the group.

The guys were there of course, and Gregory wept silently, the others looking as if they were close. Killian didn't cry, but stayed right by Nohano's side the whole time.

Nohano had never met Robert's family, and was not able to face them. He was half afraid they might accuse him, as Gregory did even though they didn't know of his involvement, but the most of it was that he couldn't bear to see their grief. Killian steered Nohano out of the church, where they sat in the van until the rest of the group had come out as well.

The trip home was silent, and no one said much the entire day. Nohano refused to eat anything, no matter how much Killian tried to persuade him. The others guys stayed put, commiserating. Gregory even hugged Nohano, telling him without words that he had forgiven him, and was sorry for hurting him.

The funeral had been awful, but in a way, Nohano was relieved. It no longer hung over him, something that he dreaded. It wasn't as simple as dismissing the whole thing as concluded and getting on with his life, but it had taken a huge burden from him.

The next day, Gregory said that he wanted to keep No Quarter going, and Nohano realized he was very glad. It would be different with Robert not there, but it would be even more wrong to disband the group, and everyone else thought so, too.

Gregory reminded them that although the faire had been canceled, there was the one just outside San Francisco in a week or so. "We've also got a possible semi-permanent gig at the new pirate theme restaurant that's opened in the city itself," he said. "Seasonal," he said. "We'd have to cut our faire times a little short, as the gig would run from September through April, but that still leaves us four months for faires."

"That'd be awesome," said Manny. "That's a permanent job." They often had to take odd jobs during the off months to pay living expenses, but with a permanent gig, that would not be necessary.

"We'd be playing in the hour or so before the actual dinner," said Gregory, "then waiting until some of the other acts have gone through their routine. All in all, we'd play three times during the night. They don't open until September, so we have until then to decide."

"I think it's a good idea," said Nohano. "We all live nearby." He blinked on thinking about living arrangements. He was alone, now; Robert had always roomed with him. He glanced at Killian, realizing he would be his new roommate, but it was a little bit intimidating. As long as he'd been on his own, he'd never actually lived without an adult in the same apartment. 'Well, guess I'd better learn,' he thought.

Gregory nodded. "All right, well, we'll bring it up again come August or so. If we still wanna do it, we'll send word then. In the meantime, we're gonna be heading back to the city." He looked at Nohano and Killian, and sighed quietly. "I dunno anything about where you came from, kid," he said to Killian. "But we're gonna have to get you some citizenship papers if you're gonna stay here. We should be able to get you some refugee status. We can easily enough register ourselves as your sponsors."

Nohano stared at Gregory for a moment, then looked at Killian. He hadn't realized that Killian could actually get into trouble, being here without a passport. He'd known it, but it hadn't crossed his mind. Killian only nodded, though he wasn't entirely happy. Nohano didn't blame him.

"Nohano, I know that you normally roomed with Robert. You gonna be okay getting a place? You know you can stay with us until you get situated."

Nohano blinked, then smiled in appreciation. "Thanks," he said. "I guess me and Killian'll be bunking together, but we should be okay getting a place. But we can stay with you at first. It might take a few days to find a place. It'll be the first time I'm getting a place on my own; it's a pain, trying to prove to the churlish adult population that yes, I'm allowed to rent a place by myself."

Manny protested being called a churl by association, and Aaron pointed out that Manny _was_ a churl. When Manny couldn't deny it, Nohano finally laughed.

"All right. We'll leave in a couple of days then," said Gregory, looking mildly entertained. "Make sure you two have all your things together, and we'll pack up the instruments tomorrow."

'Damn,' Nohano thought. 'We're gonna have to tell the other Ronin.' That presented a problem; most of them hadn't gotten lodging just yet, but Amaya was renting a house. He didn't think it was a great idea for them to all be scattered across the state. They really needed to meet, and soon.


	17. Getting Accustomed

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 17: Getting Accustomed**

The next day, Killian and Nohano dropped by Amaya's house. Killian had told Nohano about the "no visitors" thing the Japanese believed in, but Nohano thought this was good enough reason to break a rule of etiquette.

He convinced Robert to drive him and Killian there, with Killian giving directions, then walked up to knock on the door. It was opened by a sleepy-looking Amaya, who peered at the boys for a moment, cocking her head.

"Hey," said Nohano a little uncomfortably. Their last meeting had not been a friendly one.

"We've got to meet with the others," said Killian. "Nohano and I will be leaving the city soon. We're going to have to start getting our stuff together here if we're gonna have any chance against those whackers that attacked the faire."

Amaya was obviously taken aback, and having just gotten out of bed for that matter, but to her credit, she only nodded and opened the door for them. She looked at Nohano and asked him, rather civilly in fact, to take off his shoes; he looked to Killian who had already shed the thong sandals he normally wore. "Tradition," Amaya said with a faint smile, and Nohano nodded, slipping his sandals off.

"No problem."

"I will get some lemonade out," said Amaya, but Killian shook his head.

"That's all right, Amaya," said Killian. "I know it's custom and all, but we're here on business, not to mention inviting ourselves over. Nohano and I have already eaten, anyway."

Nohano couldn't tell if Amaya was offended or not; she only nodded once and headed into the house. "Then please make yourselves comfortable while I call the others," she said, "and get out of my pajamas."

Nohano felt himself flush as he realized she _was_ in her pajamas, and turned his back to her as she left the room. Killian raised a brow at Nohano's reaction. "You're red," he commented, looking amused.

"Never seen a girl in her night clothes," he muttered.

Killian laughed, which irritated Nohano; it wasn't funny, it was embarrassing! "Oh come on," said Killian. "They're just clothes. It's not like she's wearing a teddy or anything."

Nohano hadn't thought his face could get hotter, but it did, as a brief mental image flashed behind his eyes. He smacked Killian hard on the arm and invited him to kiss off. Killian at least muffled the laughter, shaking his head ruefully. Nohano hadn't ever seen any females in pajamas in real life; his foster mother had generally dressed before leaving her bedroom.

Nohano was saved from further embarrassment when Amaya came out of the back room fully dressed and looking far more awake. "The others will be here soon,' she said. "You are right, we must plan."

Nohano didn't say anything; after their last encounter, he was a little reluctant to possibly stir things up, and what resulted was a sort of uncomfortable pause in the whole scene. Finally, he gave a mental shrug, and said, "Look, I'm sorry I tried to deck you back at the faire."

He caught Killian's look of approval, and smiled, looking to Amaya. She looked a little surprised, but bowed and said that she was sorry for her cruel words. "I realized soon that I was wrong," she said. "Killian helped me to realize it."

"Yeah, he's really good at that kinda thing." Nohano's smile strengthened, and he looked at Amaya for a moment, wondering if she'd ever been much around people her own age either, because she didn't seem to know how to relate to them much better than Nohano did. He'd gone to school of course, but didn't hang out much with the other kids outside of it. "Where'd you go to school?" he finally asked.

Amaya blinked and peered at him for a moment, before shrugging. "_Shinozuka Gakuin_, Shinozuka Academy, in English. Named of the man who made the school."

"Really traditional, I guess?"

"Of course," said Amaya, as if the possibility of it being anything else were silly. "My parents hold to the old ways. Even when much of Japan has rid of tradition, we hold to them." Amaya sat down on the mat, inviting the boys to do the same with the sweep of her hand.

Killian and Nohano sat, and Nohano looked around the room. There wasn't much in the way of furniture, and the strange mat that sat on the carpet had him wondering. It was a Japanese thing, he supposed. "Guess we must seem pretty barbaric here to you," he said after a moment, looking to her once more. His tone wasn't resentful, really; he personally didn't mind being considered barbaric. He wouldn't be able to stand the kind of rigid customs Amaya seemed to adhere to.

He'd obviously caught her by surprise. "Of course not," she said, though a little color rose to her face. Nohano raised his brows, but said nothing, and Amaya sighed. "Perhaps a little," she admitted, "though it is rude to say. Even the places in Japan who have shed old tradition are not so...different as people here are. My mother said that in my great grandfather's time, especially an adult, to be different than others was a mark of shame to most. In past fifty years, it has changed much. People act different."

"Well," said Killian quietly, "is that a bad thing?"

Amaya frowned again, obviously not used to being questioned about her beliefs. "I...suppose it can be," she said, peering at him. "When people must be different, to not do what the others do, when they stop respecting elders or rank, or--"

"Whoa, hold on," said Nohano, frowning a bit. "Individuality doesn't mean lack of respect."

"Perhaps not always," sand Amaya calmly. "But it can lead if one is not careful. It lead to chaos and--"

Killian chuckled, surprising both Nohano and Amaya, and they turned to look at him. "Nothing wrong with a little chaos," he said to Amaya, who looked mildly offended. "Everyone's different. Not two people on this earth are exactly the same, and that's as it should be. So long as they keep in mind the important things, respecting other people, not hurting them, doing the right thing and all of that...how they express who they are is no mark of shame. It's all a matter of identity. You can't force a person into a mold they don't fit into."

Amaya didn't answer, and at first Nohano thought she was angry, but after a moment, she nodded. Had Nohano been standing, he might just have fallen down in shock. "Maybe," she said. "Maybe...in some things you are right."

After a moment's thought, Nohano decided he really wasn't surprised. He'd already seen Killian's skill with words, and ability to make someone else at least see his point of view.

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the Indian boy and his guardian—Nohano really needed to learn everyone's name—and then the albino boy and Middle Eastern girl Rashida, he remembered suddenly. The girl was Rashida. The last to arrive was Xan, who looked a little bedraggled. Nohano wondered at his appearance, but said nothing, only saying hello to them all as they came into the house.

Once everyone was seated in Amaya's living room, everyone seemed a little uncomfortable, and Nohano sighed quietly. That had to change. There were pairs among the group who knew one another well, but otherwise they were all strangers, and very different. That had to change if they were going to work together. This whole tension-you-can-cut-with-a-knife had to stop. "Well, I guess I'll open my big mouth and say what's going on," he said with a shaky grin, and got a couple of chuckles in return. "Okay. Well, Killian and I are going to be moving to San Francisco in a couple of days. I was here only for a few weeks for the...Renaissance Faire."

"Where's San Francisco?" asked the Indian boy.

"It's up north a bit," said Nohano. "It's where we normally live, me and the guys from No Quarter I mean. And Killian's joined the group, so he'll be going with us. I wondered—I mean I dunno where everyone's staying, but I wondered if we should all be in the same city or not. I dunno how long we'll all be, well, working together."

Everyone was quiet for a moment, and Nohano wondered if he'd said something wrong, when the tall Japanese boy spoke up. "Amaya, you know the most of this Dynasty. Where will they be most likely to attack? Will they even attack here in this country?"

"I think they will," said Amaya. "If not, we would not all be here. The Americans would have got told to meet in another place. Not have us come here."

"What city, then?" asked the albino boy through his translator.

"If this demon jerk really wants to take over the world, he'd probably start with a big city," said Xan. "Washington D. C., I'd say. The President lives there after all, and all the government buildings are there."

"Yeah," said Nohano, "but it's also the most heavily guarded place in the world practically. This demon—what's his name, Amaya? I don't know that you've ever told us."

"Arago," said the girl. "Though most English speakers call him Talpa."

"Can Talpa stand up to mortal military forces?"

"Possibly," said Amaya slowly. "But I think he will not want to, not at first, if he can avoid. And I think that he will attack in this area. This state."

"She's right," said Xander suddenly, looking to Nohano. "You live here right? Did you ever have any dreams telling you you had to go somewhere else?"

"Well no," said Nohano. "Only about all of you guys so I'd recognize you, I guess."

"We did. Well I did, at least," said Xander. "I'm from Washington D.C., myself. But I had to head here. I bet he's gonna attack here first."

Nohano felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Being attacked personally was one thing, but for some demon to attack his whole state! "What will he do when he attacks, Amaya?" he asked, hearing the worry in his own voice.

"There will be much damage," said Amaya unhappily. "Much death."

'Death?' Nohano thought. 'No, I can't take any more death...'

"He will capture before he kills, though I do not know what is worse," Amaya went on. "My mother say that my honored ancestor told her once that Arago, he feeds off of pain and fear. He will cause as much of this as he can, because it give him power."

"What does Arago look like?" asked Nohano.

"I don't know," said Amaya ruefully. "I never asked. I never thought to have to know what he looks like."

It was a good point; two months ago, Nohano wouldn't have thought he would need to recognize some demon jerk, either. He caught a flash of the nightmare he'd had, of the glimpse he'd gotten of the figure in armor... Maybe he would recognize it again by sight. Maybe.

"So where here are the biggest cities?" asked the albino boy.

"Well," said Nohano, taking a bit breath. "Los Angeles is right nearby, it's probably the biggest. Then I guess San Diego and San Francisco."

"Which has more people?" Amaya asked.

"Man, it's really close," said Nohano, "But I'd say San Francisco and Los Angeles. Will he just attack one city?"

"I think so," said Amaya. "He must get a foot step here first. Then go on to conquer more."

Nohano managed not to chuckle at the "foot step" comment, assuming she had meant "foothold".

"Then we need to kick his butt!" said the boy—Tarun, Nohano suddenly remembered. The speed demon. "Then he can't conquer any more." He'd stood, clenching his fists, looking all ready to go to battle.

Most everyone chuckled appreciatively; kicking this Talpa's butt seemed like a great idea to Nohano, but the memory of the faire stopped him from feeling too confident. "Yeah sounds good," he said to the kid. "If we can. Will it just be him and his warlords?"

"No," said Amaya quietly. "This attack—I—it will not be something we can stop. He will have warriors—armor, like a mechanical person, but magical. He will have his warlords. He will have powerful magic. It will be a long fight. We must defeat him, and his armies will fade when he is defeat. When he attack, he will open gates. They will be huge doors I think. His forces come from those."

'Oh, great,' Nohano thought frantically. 'This guy's gonna destroy my home and loose armies of magical-mechanical-armor-robots on the people, and we can't stop it, she says?' A hand on his arm startled him, but almost immediately calmed his panic. He turned to smile shakily at Killian, who smiled back.

"Easy, mate," he said, his tone grim. "It's not a great start. But at least we can do something to help. And things are a lot better for public safety than they were a hundred years ago. If it weren't, there'd—there'd be nothing left of Australia by now."

Nohano squeezed his hand before turning to the others. "Well then. I guess we really can't do anything until he attacks, can we?"

"No," said Amaya.

"So what do we do?"

No one spoke, though at least half of the others looked at Nohano expectantly, as if waiting for him to answer his own question. He frowned, looking around the circle, when Tarun's guardian spoke. "That would be your decision, wouldn't it?"

_Huh?_ Nohano stared at the tall boy, cocking his head and looking at him, expecting some kind of joke to follow the comment. When none did, he asked in disbelief, "Me? Why my decision?"

"You lead us, don't you?" asked Tarun cheerfully, shrugging and sending a bright grin his way.

Nohano spluttered a moment before managing to form a coherent word. "Me? I don't lead you—what—why do you think that?"

A few people including Killian seemed surprised as well, but the others were taken aback by Nohano's reaction. Obviously Nohano had missed something important somewhere along the line! Demetrius smiled a little, and explained. "The dreams I had told me that I will find the one who would lead us into battle here, in the United States."

"Yeah, I got that too," said Suisei. "When I dreamed of you, and of Yasuo—he's the one who brought Tarun to me—he told me you'd be leading us."

Nohano felt like he'd been hit in the gut—had _everyone_ known this before he had?

"You are Wildfire," said Amaya quietly. "Wildfire leads. The Wildfire armor chooses he who can lead. I am sorry I did not tell you before. I thought you knew."

Nohano could only stare at her, all the while thinking, 'That's ridiculous! I'm a fifteen year old drummer in a pirate singing group! I'm supposed to lead people into battle? Ludicrous!' Aloud, he said finally, "There's been a mistake. I'm no leader! I don't know how to lead! I'm not even an adult! He should be leading," he said, pointing to Tarun's guardian. "Or—or Rashida or you, Amaya! You guys know more about this than me! Or--" Anyone but him!

"Whoa, calm down," said Killian, actually laughing a little. "Being a leader's got nothing to do with knowledge or age. You really do know how. Don't you remember at the fight? You just knew what people should do. You wanted to protect us. You sorta...took charge. It's not like you've got to start barking out orders. You're not a drill sergeant."

Everyone chuckled a little bit, except for Nohano, who was still freaking out about having to lead this band into battle.

"For now, let's talk of other things," said Rashida, smiling at Nohano, who thought it was a grand idea. "Such as where we'll go. Demetrius and I are staying in a hotel room. I believe that Suisei and Tarun are, also."

Xander muttered that he hadn't been able to find a place to stay that he could afford. He'd been getting odd jobs, but didn't dare spend his money on a hotel room, and he hadn't any identification, anyway.

Nohano frowned at Xan, shaking his head. "No way," he said. "That's not cool. Why don't you stay with me and Killian?" He glanced quickly at Killian, who sent over a brief feeling of approval.

Xan's ruddy skin darkened, and he muttered that he could handle it.

"Hey," said Killian. "It's just us three, mate. We can't have anyone out on their own. The more protection the better. How could we leave someone out in the streets?"

"He's right," said Suisei. "We're a team, now. We'll act like one. No one gets left out or left to fend for themselves. "

Nohano thought suddenly of a Hawaiian term he'd come across a year or so ago when he'd tried to learn his native language, a word "ohana", which meant family. But it was more than that. It was exactly the kind of camaraderie that Suisei was describing. He looked to Xan, who was still looking very undecided. "You saved my life," said Nohano finally. "There's no way I'm gonna let you sleep in some alleyway when I can do something about it."

"And until we reach San Francisco," said Suisei, "you must stay with Tarun and me. Tarun would love to have someone else to pester besides me. I would too, for that matter."

Xander finally laughed, and agreed. "Okay," he said. "Thanks."

"So that just leaves where we others will stay," said Demetrius.

Nohano sighed, looking down at the mat he sat on, thinking. Should they all be in the same city? His first reaction to that was "yes". But which city? Nohano and Killian would be in San Francisco, but Amaya was already renting a house here on the outskirts of Los Angeles. It didn't seem fair to ask her to uproot herself, but he didn't like the idea of being split up, either. But ultimately they agreed they would relocate north, so that they could stay close by.

"When?" asked Suisei.

"We're moving tomorrow," said Killian. "The eighteenth—we could all meet at the edge of the city, maybe. Then we can figure out where to look for apartments or whatever."

"Actually," said Suisei, "We should likely choose lodging that is close to one another. We shouldn't leave anyone else on their own."

A very confusing discussion followed then, about how they would travel to San Francisco and with whom everyone would ride. Suisei finally said that he could take most of them if need be, and Nohano promised to ask Robert if he'd mind helping out as well.

"We've got a van," he said. "It wouldn't put any of us out, really, I can't see how they'd mind. I can get everyone's phone numbers, and contact you Saturday afternoon. Does...that sound okay?"

Most of them nodded, but Killian grinned at Nohano. "Sounds great, honored leader. See? You're doing just fine."

Nohano blinked, feeling his face heat up, and for a moment was torn between hugging Killian for his support, or slugging him for being a smart-ass. Finally he laughed, feeling inexplicably shy. "I guess."

Nohano borrowed a piece of paper and a pen from Rashida and wrote down the c-phone numbers of the others, sticking it into his pocket. He gave them Manny's c-phone number; Manny usually let Nohano use his phone as a contact point for his friends, since he had none of his own. "This is Manny's phone, so be careful what you say on it until I'm holding it in my hands," said Nohano. "But I don't have my own phone. I should have one once we get an apartment, though. Most of them provide a landline."

After that, the group spent the next two hours simply talking and getting to know each other. It was such an odd assortment of people, but as he interacted with them, Nohano decided that he liked them. Even Amaya, once she got past her "tradition" face. Once he got past that, he began to see the same personality he'd seen that day in the library; a little shy and uncertain, and very polite.

Demetrius was a strange one, but quite likable. He was good-natured and took most things in stride. He was quick to laugh, and slow to annoyance and anger. His favorite thing to do was rock collecting, and Nohano said that he knew of a couple of places where people could go to do that in San Francisco.

Killian asked why his eyes weren't pink, and Demetrius laughed, explaining that not all people with albinism had them. "It's not common among albinos," he said. "There are three different traits of albinism—white or light hair, pale skin, pink or light blue eyes—some only have one trait." He grinned. "Some even have violet eyes, which is pretty cool."

"I'd like to see that!"

"I don't see well, though," added Demetrius. "I have to wear glasses to improve it, but even then I don't see that well. I don't wear them if I can help it—they are not comfortable, and I lose them at least once a week." Nohano had noticed that one of his eyes pointed in a different direction from the other. Lazy eye, he believed it was called.

"But you look cool," said Tarun, making Demetrius laugh. The boy's accent was strong, but he seemed to have a very firm grasp of the language, including its slang. Nohano asked how long he'd been in the United States.

"A year, I think!" said Tarun. "I just turned ten. I go to school here, too. But I knew English before I did. I learned it at the home."

"You speak it very well," said Amaya, and the boy beamed.

Rashida said she'd left home at sixteen, as was custom for her people. "It was not always that way," she said. "But the whole world has changed in the last century. When I was younger, I had always wanted to be a doctor, helping the poor people of my country. But soon I realized my way was that of the warrior." She was a difficult one to get to know; she was so stoic and determined, but friendly, also. Still, there was a certain amount of a "don't mess with her" feeling about her, which made it difficult to relax completely when talking to her.

Not to mention she was probably smarter than the whole group. That made Nohano feel a little inferior, but also glad to have her knowledge and brains in the group. He found out she was hypoglycemic, which explained why she ate so often, but ate very little at a time.

Tarun endeared himself to everyone. He grinned more than not, and had a gift for making people laugh, or at least smile. His cheer never seemed to fade, and his optimism seemed unnatural in a country where it sometimes seemed to Nohano that pessimism was a mainstream religion. Tarun also seemed to brim with energy every second of the day. He fidgeted around, stood and paced, bounced where he sat—he was like an engine that never shut off. Suisei seemed quite used to it, though Nohano caught him rolling his eyes in a fond sort of way every once in a while.

Suisei was another odd one. Sometimes he seemed quite serene, but at other times was nearly as eager as Tarun was. When speaking of the things he enjoyed doing, his eyes would seem to light up and he'd grin and talk your ear off. Nohano found himself liking the man a great deal. He was highly amused when Suisei and Amaya got into a friendly argument about what was weirder for a Japanese person, Suisei's unusual height or Amaya's bright blue eyes. Killian declared the match a draw when no one could figure out which was odder. Nohano was glad to see the less serious side of the girl though, and thought that this casual gathering had been the best thing that they could have done.

Xander was a bit of an enigma. He was friendly enough, though not very open at all, and seemed to hang back from the group in general. Having seen a little of Xan's home life, Nohano supposed he didn't blame him. That kind of emotional stress tended to make one wary of people. He hoped that Xan would loosen up a little in time. It had to be miserably lonely!

They didn't talk about armor or warlords at all after that first part. They didn't discuss cities or battles or weaponry. Nohano was glad for it. He had the idea they were all in for a miserable, dark time, and he wasn't sure how long it would last. 'Enjoy it while you can,' he thought, to himself as much as the others.

Killian spun to look at him, his eyes wide, Nohano cocked his head, frowning in silent query. But Killian didn't answer just then, he only shook his head and mouthed the word, "later". Nohano shrugged and nodded in acknowledgement, but couldn't help wondering. Was it what he had thought? Remembering the strange mental link they'd forged, he wondered if more than feelings and vague ideas could be transmitted.

While Demetrius told a story about a trick his older brother had played on him when Demetrius was a child, Nohano closed his eyes and focused on the calm, blue waters he'd come to associate with Killian. He spent a couple of moments trying to recapture what it had felt like to have Killian's presence in his mind, how comforting it was, and how strange. 'Killian?'

Killian's eyes widened—Nohano knew that, even without opening his own eyes—and after several moments, the weirdest thing happened. Nohano heard Killian's voice—but it wasn't really a voice, and he didn't hear it so much as feel it. He seemed to be translating it into Killian's voice, because it made a little more sense, but it was really just a feeling, a feeling that defined Killian himself, forming into thoughts. Holy shit, Nohano.

Nohano grinned, opening his eyes and looking on Killian's astonished expression. 'Fantastic,' Nohano thought, though not directed at Killian. That was great. If they could all learn to do that...

But that was for another time. For now, he settled back to listen to the others talk.

By the end of the day, taking a break around noon to go and get some McDonald's for lunch, Nohano felt they'd all gone a long way towards becoming friends. It wouldn't be nearly as difficult as Nohano had feared. Tarun and Suisei were already close, like a father and son. Nohano was beginning to think of Killian as his brother, and Demetrius and Rashida behaved like the best of friends. Xan and Amaya were the only ones who hadn't bonded yet with anyone, but even they were beginning to warm up towards the others.

"I-I think we'll be okay, Killian," Nohano said later that night, after Manny had come and picked them up from Amaya's house (not able to resist teasing Nohano about having a girlfriend. Nohano was not amused.)

"I think you're right, mate," said Killian, though in a dismissive way as if that wasn't what he wanted to talk about at all. They were sitting in their accustomed corner, speaking very quietly. "But tell me about this...how'd you know we could speak through that telepathic link?"

Nohano grinned in a self-satisfied way. "I didn't know. But I had that thought, and I was kinda directing it to everyone, and then you looked shocked. I put two and two together."

Killian laughed. "I've never been more shocked. But it's cool, too! I mean really cool! We've got to see if the others have been able to do this, and figure out how to teach them, if they haven't. I'd bet anything it's this armor that's letting us do it."

"Helping us, at least," said Nohano. "It's pretty cool, actually. When I connect with you, I feel like smooth water. But it doesn't scare me. Probably because it's not really water, it's you. And you don't scare me."

"Well then we're even," said Killian. "That first time I didn't notice anything but how unhappy you were. This time, though—talk about a raging inferno. I thought I'd wandered into hell for a minute."

Nohano narrowed his eyes and glared at Killian, who snickered behind his hand. "Thanks," said Nohano, trying very hard to be aggravated, as difficult as it was. "Thanks a whole lot!"

"No problem," said Killian, no trace of apology in his voice. "Well...things might not look great, Nohano. But they're lookin' a whole hell of a lot better."

Nohano couldn't argue with that.

The new Ronin in a group - not my best picture. Killian came out the best, I think. (That's Tarun's sports uniform)

http/ 


	18. San Francisco

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 18: San Francisco**

The next day, Nohano told Killian that he was going to explain some of this to the guys. "Not all of it," he said, "but I can't just let this attack happen and them not knowing about it. I've got to keep them safe. Hell if I thought leaving would do it, I would."

"No way. As pathetic as we are, I think we're better off close by."

"Yeah." Nohano sighed. "I think that after what happened at the faire, they'll believe me, too. I can ask then about taking a couple of the others with us in the van."

"When?"

"Tonight after supper. This morning, Gregory's gonna have a rehearsal, start getting you familiar with our songs and all. You don't play an instrument, do you?" Killian shook his head. "That's all right, not many of us do. We just sing. Gregory plays guitar and I've got drums. Robert--" He stopped short, wondering how long it would be before he could say Robert's name without nearly choking up. "He played guitar...guess we're okay with only one."

"I'm in the group now," said Killian. "It'll be awesome."

Nohano sputtered laughter, taking the time first to smack Killian for his arrogance, and soon both boys were laughing.

Gregory turned and looked around at their sudden spate of laughter, looking at them as if they had both gone mad. "You two going to get going, or just cackle like a couple of bloody hyenas?"

Of course that only made them laugh harder, but they did gather Nohano's drums and follow the guys outside to rehearse.

That night's explanation did not go as smoothly as Nohano had hoped it would, but it could have been worse. It was hugely difficult to explain enough so that the guys would be forewarned, without giving away something that could be harmful to the warrior group. (Nohano was still not up to thinking of themselves as the Ronin Warriors. It was still way too weird. "Warrior" alone was weird enough.) And of course there was some skepticism. Nohano understood that, he supposed. It was a lot easier to deny something so terrifying than to accept it, but it was exasperating as hell.

He had finally taken out his armor orb and summoned the riot gear. That had shut up all of the protests at once.

"Er—you can do this too?" Gregory asked Killian in a sort of faint voice.

The Australian nodded and summoned his own riot gear, then banished it again, slipping his hands back into his pocket. Nohano looked at the guys, deadly serious. "Those assholes who attacked us, they're going to attack again. But they're not attacking us. They're going to attack a whole damned city."

"We can't stop it," said Killian. "But we want you to be ready."

"Shouldn't we, I dunno, tell the FBI or something?" Manny asked.

Nohano snorted. "Right. Tell him that a demon's gonna attack Los Angeles sometimes in the near future. That'll get you a one-way ticket to the nearest mental-health ward."

"Guess you're right," muttered Manny, briefly biting his lip. "It's a lot to take in. Though...if I hadn't seen it myself..."

"I suppose we're in no more danger with you here than not," said Gregory slowly.

Nohano shrugged a little. "I don't think you are," he said. "And Killian and I might be able to protect you."

Gregory clenched his fists briefly, then let a very weary sigh.

"We'll help," said Aaron suddenly. "Dunno what we can do, but if we can help..."

Nohano smiled at him, grateful for the sentiment. "Don't think there's much you can do," he said. "Though I did want to ask one favor. We're going to head for San Francisco—we don't want to be too far apart. Could we take a few of them with us in the van? We have one car among us, and it's not big."

Manny and Aaron looked to Gregory, who considered for a moment before nodding his head. "All right, kid," he said. "They know we're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I told them I'd ask."

"All right. Well go ahead and tell them it's cool," said Gregory. "Gods."

"Yeah, that was kinda my reaction too. Oh. Keep an eye on the weather. Those creepy clouds? The green ones? It's a sign that someone from their side is nearby."

He headed for the phone then, to call the others, and heard an "oh, great" from Aaron. He ignored them for a moment while he called Suisei and let him know that Gregory was willing to take two or three of the others along.

"That's great," said Suisei. "Tarun wants to ride with you, is that all right?"

Nohano laughed. "Sure it is," he said. "I love that kid. Do you know who else will be coming with us?"

"Xander," said Suisei.

"That's cool," said Nohano. "I'll let the guys know, then. They'll have to sit on the floor, though, the back seat's gonna be covered in gear."

Suisei laughed and promised that he'd send the message along. "And Nohano, tell your friends thanks."

"I will, Soosay—er...how do you say your name again?"

Suisei laughed. "Swee-say. It's the Japanese word for 'comet'. It actually is the word for Mercury, also, which I never quite figured out."

"Hmm. How about I just call you Comet?"

Another laugh came from Suisei's end of the line, this a longer one than the last. "Okay," he said finally. "Just so long as I don't have to endure any jokes about antique powder-cleansers."

Clueless, Nohano asked what he meant, and was told that an old brand of cleanser was called "Comet", and that people seemed to think it was mightily amusing that Suisei was named that. Nohano laughed and promised not to call him anything having to do with cleanser. "Seeya tomorrow, Comet," he said, chuckling. He liked the name. It sounded far more personable to him than "Suisei". And easier to pronounce.

"It's settled then?" asked Manny.

"Yeah, we'll have a kid my age and a little kid," said Nohano. "Who can't sit still. I'll keep him from tormenting you guys, though."

"After dealing with your hyper ass for year, I think we can handle it," said Manny.

Nohano rolled his eyes, but laughed anyway. He was just glad that things were okay again between him and No Quarter. "Look, I'm going to sleep. You yahoos try and keep it quiet for once, willya?"

"Ha!" scoffed Manny. "'Yahoos,' he says. Listen to him. He's getting too big for his breeches."

"His headband's wound too tight," agreed Gregory, smiling a bit.

With a gesture of mock exasperation for the dimwits he had to deal with, Nohano stalked to his hammock and lay down. Chuckling, Killian curled up on his sleeping bag for the night.

---

In the morning, No Quarter piled up their stuff in the van and crowded into the four available seats, ready to head for Los Angeles. They picked up Xander and Tarun, who was jumping up and down with excitement. The rest of the Ronin had piled with their belongings (Amaya had the largest amount of stuff) and gone in Suisei's car.

Killian and Nohano let Xan have the empty seat, and sat on the floor with Tarun, who all but quivered with eagerness. "I can't wait to see it!" he said.

"What, San Francisco?" asked Nohano, amused.

"Yes! I've never seen it before." The boy stood up, grasping the back of Manny's seat. Manny turned around and grinned at the kid, who grinned back.

"Guess you didn't go through too many big cities on your way here, eh kid?" asked Killian.

"We did," said Tarun logically, "but they weren't San Francisco, so it's different."

Nohano laughed, shaking his head, and ruffling the kid's hair. "The big cities aren't all that different from each other," he said. "Unless you get into a different country, anyway. Hey. Don't you ever sit still, twerp?"

"Nope."

Okay, that was a silly question. Grinning, Nohano caught the waistband of the boy's shorts and pulled him down onto his lap, launching a tickle assault. Tarun squawked with indignation and began to thrash around, giggling.

"Hey!" Gregory called irritably from where he sat in the driver's seat. "Knock it off or I'll stuff you in a suitcase! Both of you!"

Tarun laughed, sprawled half in Nohano's lap and half on the floor of the van, and proclaimed that he was dead, now. Killian, who had taken cover up against one of Nohano's drum cases, watched with a grin on his face. "You're no fun," Nohano accused Gregory.

"Would it be fun to run into another car at a hundred miles an hour?"

He had a point. "All right, you," said Nohano, giving the little boy a shove. "Off my lap, you reprobate."

Of course that meant that Tarun had to refuse to leave Nohano's lap, leaving Nohano with the dilemma of removing him without resorting to physical actions that would annoy Gregory. Manny and Xan, who sat in the middle seats flanking them, were both shaking their heads.

There was one advantage of Tarun's low attention span; he was soon tired of being "dead" and sat up, relocating to the floor and asking questions as they rode. Most of the questions had to do with California, and the faires, and the group Nohano sang with. Nohano was glad to answer them, while Killian or one of the guys would sometimes interject an answer.

After the questions, they engaged in some word games; such as being the first to spot a license plate from a specific state, or answering trivia from one of Aaron's pocket games, or picking a letter and having people guess different things that began with it.

The trip wasn't as evil as it could have been. Gregory only got grouchy a few times, Tarun managed not to be too obnoxious with his hyperactivity, and Xan even joined in the games.

When they got into San Francisco, Tarun began asking about all the things that he saw, and Gregory pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center. "All right," he said. "Hey kid, you wanna use Manny's phone to call your friends? Find a meeting place?"

"Yeah, good idea," said Nohano. "Tarun needs to meet up with Comet."

"'Comet'?" asked Xan, raising an eyebrow.

Wondering briefly how he was able to just raise one eyebrow, Nohano laughed a little sheepishly. "I can never remember his name, so I asked if I could just call him Comet. That's what his name means, anyway. It's the word for 'comet'."

Xan laughed, shaking his head. "I see."

"Hey Manny, cough up the c-phone, willya?"

"I don't think you want it after he's coughed it up, mate," said Killian as Manny handed the phone over. Nohano ignored him as he reached into the pocket of his jeans to grab the paper he'd written down everyone's numbers on. Finding Suisei's, he called the older boy.

"Hey!" Suisei greeted him. "Is this Nohano?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Only number I didn't recognize. Where are you?"

"We've just gotten into the metro area," said Nohano, looking over towards a nearby street sign. "Just off of highway one-oh-one, near Candlestick Park. We're at a Wal-Mart, in the parking lot."

"All right, we're not too far behind. We should be there in maybe fifteen minutes. Hopefully I won't get too lost, but Rashida's really good with maps. We should be fine. Did Tarun drive you too insane?"

"No, but I owe him some tickle torture," said Nohano, looking sideways at the boy, whose eyes widened in gleeful alarm. "So the mad, whirling dervishes you'll see on your way in'll be us."

After he was finished laughing, Suisei said he'd see them soon, and Nohano hung up the phone. Tarun screeched and flung the side door open, dashing outside towards the nearby empty lot. Nohano leapt out after him, hoping suddenly the kid didn't put his armor on. He'd never catch him then!

But he didn't, and Nohano swooped down on the boy, grabbing him and lifting him in the air. Tarun shrieked and started laughing as Nohano pretended to slam him down on the ground, where he began the tickle attack.

He wasn't merciless. He let Tarun get in some good licks as they roughhoused, and Nohano wished he'd known this kid sooner. He'd forgotten what it was like to roughhouse with someone, and was having a lot of fun. Not to mention he, too, was sick of being in the van. He liked seeing new places, but he hated riding in the van!

Killian and Xander had joined the roughhousing (Killian had discovered that Xander had a ticklish spot right below his ribs and was taking advantage of it) and the rest of No Quarter was watching amusedly from the van, when Suisei's Toyota pulled into the lot. Tarun noticed it first, jumping off of Nohano's back and sprinting towards the car. "Suisei!"

"Hey, they're here," said Killian, grinning and jogging after the kid. Nohano got up off the dirt and brushed off his jeans, stretching, and turning his face up to the hot midsummer sun. It was beginning to set, but it was still quite warm out, and Nohano enjoyed it.

"That was fun," said Xan, brushing himself off and grinning as if he was amazed he'd enjoyed the romp.

"Yeah!" said Nohano. "I haven't done that in forever. Come on, let's see what horrors the others have endured on their trips."

Xan laughed a little and followed Nohano as he started towards where Suisei and his group were greeting the others. "It's been a while since I been part of a group." Xan shrugged. "We moved a lot. Never really got used to makin' friends."

"Must be rough," said Nohano sympathetically. "Guess bein' a...Ronin Warrior...has advantages. Friends as a side-effect."

Xan laughed. "So now being a Ronin's a prescription drug, huh? 'Might result in odd side effects, such as loss of life, psychopathic dreams, and friend gain'."

Nohano stopped and smacked his head to his forehead, laughing hard as he imagined such a label on a red pharmacy bottle. Taking a breath, he resumed walking, shaking his head at the wry smirk on Xan's face. "Hoo boy. You know you're life's gotten weird when someone can say something like that, and it makes sense."

"You said it, man!"

When the pair reached the main group, Suisei seemed to be in the middle of telling a story that involved a public toilet whose commode had exploded just after Demetrius had gotten up off of it. "I was lucky," said Demetrius ruefully, his look one of disgust. "I was able to dodge and get out of the bathroom before I got hit. The man in the booth nearly had a heart attack, though. He was on the phone when we left, complaining to someone about it."

Manny was laughing so hard he'd had to sit down on the van's running board, and most everyone else either looked amused or disgusted. Nohano raised his brows, looking to Suisei. "Sounds like you guys had a more interesting trip than we did."

"Just the one incident," said Suisei with a grin. "So what's the plan?"

"Well I figure we can get checked into some cheap motel while we go apartment hunting," said Nohano. "Aaron knows several places that have a lot of fairly good apartment complexes in the area, and it's not all that difficult to find a place. Killian and I have first and last months' rent, and I have all my emancipation papers, so there shouldn't be any trouble there."

"An apartment sounds good," said Suisei. "Once settled in, we can meet and exchange our contact information. I will follow you, then, to a motel we can stay in." He grinned. "This is kinda fun."

"'Fun' isn't the word I'd use," said Gregory, rolling his eyes, but he smiled all the same. "All right then, we'll head there for now, and tomorrow, we go apartment hunting."


	19. Calling the Armor

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 19: Calling the Armor**

The next day was highly interesting. Nohano was scared to death, but he managed to get through it. It wasn't a Dynasty attack, it was the process of getting his own apartment. He, Killian, and Xan had decided that he should go alone, because Killian didn't have his immigration papers yet, and Xander was certain that his parents had reported him as a runaway.

Gregory dropped Nohano off at an inexpensive, decent place that welcomed walk-in clients, and when Nohano went in, he felt he would rather have been fighting the Dynasty than doing this. But once he got there, his fear eased a little bit.

The woman in charge was nice enough. At first she thought he was some renter's son, come to deliver his mother's rent check. Nohano fully expected that, and had his identification ready. "Oh, I don't live here yet, ma'am," he said. "I'm actually here to see about renting an apartment." When the woman blinked, he went on quickly. "I'm fifteen, yes, but I'm an emancipated minor; I have my identification and papers all with me."

"Oh." She was taken aback, but Nohano gave her credit for a quick recovery. "Well then, as long as that's all in order, sir, I don't foresee any problems. If you'll follow me back here, please."

He'd followed her back, looking over a copy of the lease, working through the more confusing terms. He wasn't afraid to ask if he didn't know what something meant.

"This is an unusual case, Mr..."

"Oh! Sorry, ma'am." Nohano stood from his seat and offered his hand to the woman. "Kalama Nohano."

"Ah, nice to meet you, Mr. Nohano." And did that sound strange! "As I said, this being an unusual case, even if your credit checks out even, I'll have to check with the upper managers before having you sign a lease. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

That was not something Nohano had expected, but he only nodded and finished his reading. He figured he'd have to fill out several applications before finding one that would suit him that would accept him, so he wasn't all too put out.

The whole affair had ended with a handshake and polite good-byes, and then it was over. Breathing a little more easily, Nohano went back out to the van, laughing with relief. "Damn, that's scary shit," he said.

"Hey, ya got through it though!" said Killian encouragingly. "What'd they say?"

"It'll be a couple of days before I find out," said Nohano, as Gregory went in for his own application. By applying at the same places, they were hoping to find lodging in the same complex. It was far more convenient for rehearsals.

They went to several more places that day, and the novelty of doing it by himself and the ritual of explaining that yes, he had the legal right in California to sign a lease, were growing thin. Still, Nohano felt he'd gotten a lot done as he, Gregory, and Killian all headed back towards the hotel.

By the end of the weekend, the tedium had paid off well. The members of No Quarter managed to get accepted in the same apartment complex, an inexpensive, clean one in the area near the bay. Nohano wasn't entirely happy about being so close to the water, though Killian was thrilled, and said he intended to go swimming every day. Still the place wasn't cramped, filthy, or noisy, so Nohano wasn't going to protest too much.

Gregory shared the new apartment with Manny and Aaron, and lived was two buildings over from Nohano. Nohano, to his delight, had gotten a third-floor apartment, which was the highest level. That meant no one above, tromping around all day, and a fairly safe height above sea level.

Nohano stepped into the apartment and looked around, still in awe that he had done this on his own. The apartment was carpeted, unlike the studio they'd shared back in Irwindale, and was rented by the month. This was also a studio apartment, since they were the least expensive, and plenty big enough for three teenaged boys.

The bathroom was a little bigger than the one in Irwindale had been, though the kitchen was just as small. Electric for the heating and kitchen, but it wasn't a big deal. Nohano didn't intend to use all that much electricity.

The boys' belongings were in the corner, and once they'd checked out their new apartment, they began setting it all up. Nohano assembled his stand-alone hammock, and Killian unrolled his sleeping bag. Xan had two blankets he'd salvaged from a Dumpster and cleaned up, and he said that was fine.

Most of the stuff just went onto the floor as usual, only in a somewhat orderly manner. Nohano's stuff he lined along one wall, and Killian kept his few belongings in the suitcase he'd found at the secondhand shop. Xander didn't have anything with him, and Nohano thought they would be making another trip to the secondhand shops soon.

"This is pretty cool," said Killian wonderingly. "Kinda scary, though."

Nohano laughed, nodding his head. It was definitely scary! But he was proud of himself. "Tomorrow's Monday, we can get you to the immigration offices. Like Gregory said, we should be able to get you refugee status...I mean if you end up staying here."

Killian's smile faded. "I honestly don't know, mate," he said. "I need to find out about my parents. Once...once I know either way...I can decide."

"Understood." Nohano smiled briefly, then looked around once more. "What about you, Xan? You think you're gonna try for emancipation, or..."

Xan frowned grimly and shook his head. "No. My parents'd never go for it. They have to agree, don't they?"

Oh yeah. Nohano had been on his own so long, he forgot about the things involved in getting the emancipation. "That's true," he said. "Too bad we can't get you some kind of identification, using a different name or something. Still, they'd never look for you here, would they?"

"I hope not."

Nohano felt a surge of sympathy for him; both he and Killian had been through a lot! "Well they won't hear it from me," he said with an encouraging sort of grin, and Xan returned it with a faint smile. "So, cool. So anyway, tomorrow I'm gonna call Comet, see how they've done finding their own places. Then we can meet up again. I guess Amaya's probably gonna be teaching us all fighting, right?"

"I guess," said Killian. "She didn't say. But I think Rashida knows martial arts, too."

"We really need to learn. Hell, you know we could practice here. Not up here I mean, the downstairs neighbors would kill us."

"Do we even have downstairs neighbors?"

Nohano nodded. "A family, got a couple of kids, and all. But there's the compound outside, and a park nearby. We've got places to fight. What we need, though, is a place we can fight in armor, and not be seen. I really need to learn to use those swords on my back, at least well enough to keep from getting killed."

"Hey," said Killian suddenly. "What was the weapon with mine? Did I even have one?"

Blinking, Nohano tried to remember what it had been, but had been too surprised to really notice. "I dunno. Once we find out how to call the armor when we want it, we can find out."

Both boys looked at each other and laughed; it really was pathetic!

"At least you have weapons," said Xan, grinning a little more brightly than he had a moment ago. "I don't!"

"That's odd," said Ryo. "Do they all have weapons?"

"I have no clue."

"All right," said Killian, sticking out a finger. "First order of business; find out where everyone's settled. Second order of business, get me some immigration papers. Third order of business, learn to call our armor. Fourth order of business, learn to fight so we don't look like a bunch of monkeys in samurai suits."

Killian's list had Xan looking at him in mild wonder, and Nohano sinking down onto his hammock, laughing, for nearly a minute. "Did I look that bad?"

"Crikey, how should I know? I was busy trying not to get killed. I was referring to myself lookin' like that!"

Nohano laughed some more. It was good they could find some humor in the whole thing. He had the idea that was going to be needed a whole lot in the future.

---

Killian's mental list of things to do, as odd as it was, was not difficult to accomplish. Things were quiet for a good, long time, which at once relieved Nohano and worried him. Surely they'd not dissuaded the Dynasty from their conquests, but why were they taking so long? He decided he didn't want to know.

The next day, they found that everyone except for Amaya had found a place to stay, and that she likely was going to be moving in with Demetrius and Rashida. Rashida was an adult by the laws of her country, and as she was a citizen there, those laws applied to her in the United States as well. Amaya, who had been lucky in bluffing her way through renting the house in Irwindale, was not having that kind of luck here.

Manny drove Nohano and his roommates to the immigration office, and it was not a huge deal to get Killian started on getting his citizenship papers. It'd take about a week, and he was given a temporary visa so he would be legal in the meantime. He wasn't of age yet, but as he was with Nohano, he was allowed to go without adult escort. Nohano was not old enough to be a legal guardian, but with Killian being the same age as Nohano, it was reluctantly allowed. Xan had decided it was best to stay in the van.

No Quarter began rehearsals again, in preparation for the upcoming San Francisco faire, and Killian learned their songs quickly enough. Xan would either watch them or work at a part time job he'd gotten at a local grocery, stocking the shelves. In the afternoons, the boys met with the other Ronin.

Killian had been right in that Amaya intended to teach them all she knew about fighting and weapons work. Rashida knew nothing of swordsmanship, but knew a great deal about martial arts, and often helped in the teaching.

Nohano, Killian, and Xan, the only native English speakers, had begun teaching the language to Demetrius and Rashida, and even some to Amaya, who still had a little trouble with it. They were learning some things in the others' languages, also, though often the learning consisted of cuss words and other amusing terms.

They spent a good deal of time learning about their armor, and helping Rashida to research what its abilities might be. They realized they didn't need to call the armor in Japanese after all, and that English would work just as well. Nohano was the first to try it, exasperated by trying to find his armor's name one day while visiting Suisei and Tarun in their basement apartment. He finally asked Rashida how the phrase she used translated into English.

"Armor of Halo," she said.

In his sub-armor, Nohano had scowled, stepped back, and called out loudly, "Armor of Wildfire!", and focused as hard as he could on gathering the extra pieces of armor, of feeling it entwine around him body and soul.

For just a moment, he thought that it had failed, before he staggered slightly against the extra weight that adhered to him, laughing delightedly as he felt the helmet form over his head, the whole suit of armor leaving only a small part of his face uncovered.

Killian cheered, laughing and jumping into the air. Nohano stared for a moment before grinning ear to ear and also jumping in the air. He jumped rather higher than normal, using the extra burst of strength the armor gave him. "Killian, try it!"

Killian laughed, shrugged, and cried out, "Armor of Torrent!"

Nohano watched, fascinated, as the armor seemed to flicker, ghost-like, around him, then solidify. His eye went to the odd weapon on his back, but he couldn't have said exactly what it was. "You've got a weird trident-thing," he said, shaking his head.

"It is a _yari_," said Amaya with a smile. "The words are nearly the same."

While Nohano helped Killian get the _yari_ off his back, Rashida laughed. "I did not need to learn the Japanese words, then," she said. "I wonder if it would work if I used my own language."

"I think it would," said Suisei, laughing. "It's probably more the mind and spirit than the words. The words are just a focus."

Rashida looked a little sheepish. "I guess sometimes I look right past the obvious answer."

"That's all right," said Killian, gazing at his weapon, a long staff that came apart at the middle, one end taken up by three blades in a trident shape. "Nohano's good at stating the obvious, so you balance each other out."

Everyone laughed, though Nohano first smacked Killian on the arm, making a dull clanking sound.

Everyone tried it then, using the name for their armor, in their own languages. Demetrius spent a few moments finding the appropriate word in Russian (translating more in Russian and in English to "hardrock" than "diamond"), and Tarun had to try a few different things before realizing his was Armor of Daybreak.

Suisei was the only one who had a problem. He had managed to figure out that air was his element, but he could not hit on the right name for his armor. Suisei got out his laptop computer and the group of them crowded around it, trying to figure out what kind of armor his could be. An online thesaurus finally gave them their answer: strata. "That's not even singular," said Rashida, frowning and shaking her head. "Maybe it's just an odd translation...'stratum' usually refers to rock."

"Stratosphere, I guess," said Suisei, chuckling. His armor was the oddest of the lot; the main part of the helmet rose up into a sort of cone shape, with blade-horns sticking out of the sides and his shoulder pieced were square and bulky. Nohano was tempted to make a smart-alecky reference to him being a conehead, but held it back, knowing it would offend Amaya. The rest of his armor was sleek and streamlined, and a powerful-looking longbow was his weapon.

All in all, their armors were Wildfire, Strata, Halo, Torrent, Hardrock, Daybreak, Twilight, and Night. Amaya's was not much different from her sub-gear. There was a little more protection, and had a sleek look about it all. Her helmet had a spike pointing backwards from the head, and a pair of nunchaku completed it.

Rashida's armor was a little bulky, her helmet broad and adorned with a strange, gold, pronged bit of metal. The weapon on her back was a cool looking longsword. The Hardrock armor was bulkiest of all, and Nohano didn't think he'd even be able to move in it, no matter how easy it seemed for Demetrius.

"I just realized something," said Nohano. "Those warlords, they weren't speaking English. Well, some of them were. But I still understood what they said, at least sometimes. How could that be? Hell, I think they were speaking Japanese!"

"I don't know," said Amaya, frowning. "It's possible it has something to do with the armors. The original five Ronin armors were once a part of the same set of armor as the masho—the warlord armors."

Nohano stared at her for a moment before looking down at the bright red covering his body, feeling a sudden loathing. "This armor, Wildfire—the one you said was pure virtue—was once part of what they wear?"

"Yes." Amaya sighed. "It is complicated. It was all one armor. Talpa's." Nohano nearly fell down in shock.

"I'm wearing demon armor. Perfect!"

"Not quite. You see, it was split into nine different armors by the Ancient One, when he defeat Talpa a thousand years ago. The Ancient was mystic. The mystic put virtues into the armors, to help make less the evil of the armors. But Talpa got four of them back. He gave these to the warlords, who corrupted them."

"There were a whole lot more than four warlords," said Xan.

"Yes. Which worries me. He has more, and made or found more armor. But the five original of the Ronin, and the four of the first warlords, will be very powerful. Ancient. If he could get them all, he would be unstoppable. With all nine of them, the five we have and the warlords' four, he will make our world and his into one. He will control everything."

Nohano did sit down then, scowling in irritation as he had to be a little creative in order to sit on a flat floor with the strange protective pieces that extended down from his waist. "Yeah, let's try not to let that happen," he said a little faintly.

"Definitely," said Suisei, looking a little pale. "He's powerful enough as it is!"

Nohano frowned. "Hold on, why can't I understand Rashida and Demetrius, then? Don't they have the original armor, too?"

Amaya blinked, and looked over to the Hardrock and Halo Ronin, who also looked surprised by the question. "Perhaps we have not tried to be understood," said Demetrius slowly through his translator, which was badly muffled from his armor. He banished the armor and looked at it thoughtfully. "We've not needed to. But Rashida and I—we've traveled with one another for several weeks, and grown to be close friends. And we seem to be able to understand one another without using this."

"You know," said Nohano thoughtfully, "Killian and I sorta formed a mental link like that. Telepathy. Is it like that?"

"Not quite," said Rashida. "We never tried actually sending thoughts, but they seem to drift along with our words, anyway."

"Well...why don't we try it?" said Killian, standing up and looking excited. "All get into our armor and try linking!"

The Ronin took Killian's suggestion, and from then on, their communication problems were solved. It didn't happen right away, but there _was_ something, a connection, the vague feeling of the others in Nohano's mind. It was frightening and empowering all at once. And the best part was, there was no language with this kind of communication. It was silent, and transcended the language differences. He wasn't sure how far this newfound power could reach from one to another, but it certainly was convenient!

"Don't think this lets you guys off the hook for learning English," said Nohano suddenly to Rashida and Demetrius.

They both laughed, taken aback at the sudden teasing, but amused all the same. "Wouldn't dream of thinking that," said Demetrius though the translator, and then repeated it through the tenebrous link he had with Nohano. Nohano understood it as clearly as if it were spoken English.

Night Armor:

http/ 


	20. Dog Days

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 20: Dog Days**

The youths' next goal was to find a place they could practice their fighting without being seen. They could practice anywhere without armor, and they did, but it took them an entire week to find a place they could use their armor and not be spied upon.

There was a large stretch of beach about five miles away from where Nohano lived that was blocked off by a large crag of rock that reached out several meters into the ocean. The beach was rocky and unappealing, and far enough from the main parts that it was never occupied.

At first, Nohano protested the location, until Killian told him it would be good therapy to practice with so much water nearby. "I'd never let you drown," he'd said sincerely. "Ever."

Nohano trusted Killian enough to relent, though he point blank refused to swim around the crags of rock to get to the enclosed cove-like area. Instead he found a low bit of cliff and climbed it, sliding down a steep rock incline on the other side. (Now that, he admitted, was fun.)

For the first couple of training sessions, Nohano slid down the rock and stood, shaking, as he stared out at the water. Gazing at the ocean from a distance was fine. Looking at it in pictures and movies was fine. Even gazing from a building that was a safe distance from shore was fine.

This, however, was not. Nohano was struck by a sudden shock of panic, wondering what would happen if a large wave hit the area. It was surrounded by rock, wouldn't they all be washed away?

Killian's presence eased into Nohano's mind. Easy, he said softly. Just watch for now. We'll work you up into joining in practice in a couple of days.

That was a good idea. Nohano nodded and pressed himself up against the cliff wall, his wary eye on the ocean, while Amaya and Rashida began taking the others through basic martial arts moves. Nohano, the only one not armored up, was able to tear his eyes from the enemy of the sea to watch every once in a while, tensing whenever a small wave washed onto the beach. How he'd let Killian talk him into this--!

He relaxed the smallest bit as the practice went on, and nothing horrible happened. Still, he couldn't get the image of the awful tsunami out of his head, and was quite thrilled when it was time to go home.

It took nearly a week before Nohano could make himself practice with the others, staying very close to the cliff face as he armored up and joined in the exercises. As the days wore on, he became more and more sure of himself in their sheltered cove, though he never would let Killian coax him into the water. Nohano wasn't quite ready for that.

---

No Quarter began performing at the San Francisco Renaissance Faire the week after, though all of its members were tense. Killian and Nohano were tense, expecting another Dynasty attack, and most of them were missing Robert quite badly.

Gregory had suggested that they sing Bartholomew Roberts for their first song, explaining that it had been Robert's favorite, and it would be a good way to honor him. Though at first wanting to protest, Nohano really couldn't argue. He knew it would be more fitting than the psalms they sang at his funeral. Still, he almost had Killian take his singing part, but didn't in the end, not wanting to chicken out on the song that would honor his friend.

For their first performance at the fair, Gregory began by announcing to the crowd why they were missing a member of their group. "Robert Tiller was killed a few weeks ago in Irwindale, by the terrorist attack."

That's what the news had called it: a terrorist attack. People with stolen lasers and new technology had attacked the fairegrounds, killing several people. Nohano was relieved because it meant his group were under no suspicion, but still irritated that some people refused to accept what they see in front of their eyes.

At least half the audience gasped, or made some other kind of noise of surprise, and Nohano stood quietly, his floor drum sitting before him on the stage. He began to silently cry as Gregory finished, introducing Killian, and explaining that he had been invited to the group by Robert a week or so before his death, and had been a great asset to No Quarter.

"Finally," said Gregory, "our first song will be Bartholomew Roberts. It was Robert's favorite, and the last one that he ever sang. We sing it now to honor him."

'I'm not gonna be able to sing,' Nohano thought furiously, wiping tears. A sudden tide of strength from Killian's direction made him look up and give the other boy a grateful look. Killian was sitting this one out, feeling it wasn't appropriate for him to join in, and stood of to one side to listen. Nohano watched Gregory for his cue, then bent over his drum and began the song.

Nohano made it through, but it wasn't entirely easy. He wept, but the strength and support Killian lent him allowed him to belt his part out fairly steadily. He finished out the song and stepped back, wiping at his face with the loose end of his headband, as the audience before them stood up, almost all at once, and applauded them. Nohano closed his eyes and set the drum down as Killian came over, and rested his face on the Australian boy's shoulder.

The applause lasted quite longer than normal, which gave Nohano time to get a grip on himself. He ducked behind the stage to grab a tissue, blowing his nose and wiping at his eyes. When he came back out onto stage, most of the audience had sat back down, and No Quarter was ready to move on to the next song.

It had been strange to practice without Robert there, but it was ten times stranger to perform without him. Killian sounded well with the group, and Gregory had taken the lead guitar parts, but it was still very strange. Nohano knew it would take a while to get used to.

---

As the weeks began to add up to a month, and then two months, there was no sign of the Dynasty. Several times it clouded over, and the threatening green tinge had barely tainted the clouds, but Nohano never saw anything of it. Rashida was of the opinion that they were biding their time or strengthening their forces. "Or both," she'd said glumly. She was probably right, too, but Nohano didn't mind. It gave him a chance to begin learning to fight.

In fact he rarely had any free time, having rehearsals with No Quarter most morning, and battle practice most afternoons. On the weekends he and Killian were at the faire all day, and when the faire was over, they practiced yet more.

Nohano wanted to take a break, but he was almost afraid to. He wanted to learn as much as he could, and get as used to his new armor and weapons as he could. He hadn't read his books in weeks, and Killian had not challenged Xan on the Nintendo Centurion they'd bought a few weeks before in at least five days.

The others were quite busy, also. Tarun attended school starting the beginning of August, and was entering the fourth grade, which had considerably more homework than the third had. Suisei found another job in a hangar, working during the day and training in the evening.

Xan continued his job with the grocery, working part time, as his age would allow. Demetrius and Rashida had also gotten jobs, Rashida as a dishwasher, and Demetrius with a construction crew. Neither job required knowledge of English, and for Demetrius, it was an ideal job. He loved to build things, and was stronger than most of the adults he worked with.

Amaya, who stayed with them, did not work. Being fourteen, with no papers saying she was allowed to work, it was not legal. But her family sent her money each month, knowing that she was destined to be a Ronin and knowing she would need help away from Japan. And so she was able to help Demetrius and Rashida with rent, though it left her with the most spare time. She looked after the apartment, cooking and cleaning. She considered it her duty, as she could not contribute as much as she liked to the monthly rent, and the others worked during the day.

Aside from their training, work, and school, the Ronin were beginning to figure out how the weapons of their armor worked. With Amaya and Rashida both working on it, they found that their weaponry could deliver a powerful surge of energy, a special attack. With the exception of those who bore the newly-made armor, the secret to the weapons' powers was in their battle cry. It wasn't easy to find the cries, but once learned, they understood just how powerful their weapons were.

As for Amaya, Tarun, and Xander, theirs worked a little differently. The ammunition Tarun used with his sling was already charged, ready to let fly at an opponent. Amaya's nunchaku extended to the length she needed, blasting with energy anything they hit. Xander, oddly, had no weapon with his armor, so Amaya had begun teaching him how to use a simple bo staff. Xan speculated that having shield powers meant he had no weapon. And as powerful as his shielding skills were, Nohano wasn't really sure he needed a weapon!

As their skill grew, he began to think they just might have a chance.

---

As August came to a close in a blaze of heat, Gregory asked the group all once again if they wanted to take the gig at The Jolly Roger, the pirate-theme restaurant, and everyone voted "yes". Gregory made the arrangements, and was told they would start at the end of September. It was good timing, because the current faire ended in the middle of the month, which left only two weeks between jobs.

A horrible thought struck Nohano during those two weeks, on the weekend he choose to be his days off from practicing and rehearsal. He had chosen those days to coincide with the others' days off, so they could hang out together and not worry about training, work, or school.

"What if the Dynasty's already attacked?" he asked as they lounged around Killian, Xan, and Nohano's studio apartment. "But somewhere else? They might not even be planning on striking here in the U.S.!"

A startled silence met his question before Amaya reminded him that they'd all gotten visions or outright instructions to meet in California. "Besides," she said. "An attack that bad, we would see it on the television news, right?"

"That's true," said Nohano, relaxing a little. "And it'd be all over the newspapers, even if it wasn't in this country."

Still, said Demetrius through the mental link they'd all managed to forge among one another. I _have_ been feeling uneasy.

"Say that in English," said Nohano suddenly. He did that often, out of the blue suggesting he or Rashida repeat what they'd said in English. It was good practice.

Demetrius sighed with exasperation, but was unable to hide a smile as he thought for a moment, then repeated his statement in very slow, cautious English.

"Hey, that was good!" said Killian with a grin. "You speak it better than Nohano does."

Everyone laughed at that, and Nohano rolled his eyes. "Brats," he muttered with a laugh. "Uneasy. How?" he asked of Demetrius. He wasn't entirely sure he liked the sounds of that; Nohano had felt uneasy, too. That's why he'd thought of the Dynasty attacking elsewhere.

"We haven't had much time to breathe, must less notice subtle, creepy crap," said Xan. "But now that you mention it, it's been pretty dingy out. And that damned green haze has hung around."

"But no sign of the warlords," said Nohano, frowning.

I've felt as if I'm being watched, said Demetrius.

That wasn't good news. "You think we _are_ being watched?"

I think the Dynasty has ways to see...magical ways. But I do not think we would feel that watching. I wonder if there are warlords who are sent to watch us?

"Oh, fantastic," muttered Killian. "Just what I wanted to hear." He sighed, leaning against the nearest wall. "How would we find out?"

"We don't," said Nohano disgustedly. "We have a vague idea of what their armor looks like, and I'd recognize that spider-looking dude. But otherwise we have no clue what they look like! I don't even remember that other one that was with the spider dude. And most of them had masks on the armor."

"There's nothing we can do about it, is there?" said Tarun, scowling with indignation. "I don't like being watched by those--"

"Jackasses," Xan offered.

"Yeah!"

Nohano sighed. "Listen. Let's try and keep a lookout. I know we're all busy, but..." He frowned and looked around the circle; every one of them was alone in the evenings, either at work or school, except for Killian and Nohano. "You all carry your armor orbs everywhere, right?"

Everyone nodded, and Tarun said, "Yeah! I take it everywhere, except in the bath. But I keep it in the bathroom!"

Nohano had to laugh. "Okay, good enough," he said. "I don't like the idea of being spied on. But all we can do is keep an eye out. Those guys feel creepy as hell. You meet anyone like that, remember what they look like. We can go from there."

"In the meantime--" said Demetrius.

"We should go for ice cream!" Tarun finished. Suisei clapped a hand to his forehead as everyone else either laughed or agreed.

"It's hotter than the ninth level of Hell," said Killian, making Nohano snort and Tarun giggle. "Ice cream sounds great to me."


	21. Battle Plans

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 21: Battle Plans**

Within the Nether Realm, Talpa sat on his simple throne, gazing coolly at the two young men who knelt before him. "Stand up. What have you two to report to me?"

Cade Taylor and Moral Sullivan did as they were bade, exchanging a very nervous glance; it was the first time either of them had reported to Master Talpa without one of their superiors with them, and both were terrified, though they wouldn't admit it. They had finished a weeks-long mission in the mortal realm.

"Do not keep me waiting."

Cade snapped his head back around to look at Talpa, wincing mentally. "Sorry, Master," he said quickly. He and Moral had decided beforehand that it would be better for Cade to do most of the talking; Moral had an unfortunate tendency to annoy Talpa, and so tried very hard to avoid contact with him. "First of all, Master Talpa, we've followed them to another city, San Francisco. It's north and west of Irwindale, and is the city they normally live in." When Master Talpa simply nodded as if telling him to go on, Cade was encouraged. "We know where all of them but one is living."

"Though we think she's staying with two of the others," Moral put in.

Cade nodded, taking a big breath. He and Moral, the only two Americans, had been sent on an information-gathering mission to the mortal realm. Kale, more furious at their failure than Dais had been (and after a ten minute long scolding that left most of the minor warlords staring at their feet in shame), had taken Moral and Cade aside. Master Talpa had decided to simply deal with the Ronin when they orchestrated their main attack, and had all of their forces in play. Moral and Cade were simply to find and follow the Ronin, and watch them.

"Torrent and Wildfire live in an apartment complex near the bay area," said Cade, though he wasn't quite sure if Talpa knew of things like apartments, or where the bay area was. It didn't matter; Cade knew where it was, and could direct him to it. "Another American lives with them, he with a newly created armor. Hardrock and Halo stay in an apartment about four miles away. The one we could not locate for certain, she who also bears a newly created armor, may live there as well."

"And she's a descendant of that Ryo guy," put in Moral. "Well, so she says."

"Interesting," murmured Talpa, turning around and pacing slightly back and forth. The two American boys exchanged a brief, relieved grin, before Cade continued.

"Strata lives in an apartment also, with the small boy, who is his legal ward. The child also has a new armor."

Talpa paused to peer at Cade, and Cade only barely kept from taking a step backwards. "I see," he murmured. "And I suppose it's too much to hope you've any information on these new armors?"

Cade's answer was calm, though he felt highly insulted; Talpa had that effect on him often. Moral's scowl spoke more clearly how he felt, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. "We have, Master," said Cade. "The child's armor associates with daytime, and gives him great speed. The boy who stays with Wildfire has armor associated with twilight, and can both conceal and shield. The night armor, the armor that Sanada Ryo's descendant bears, I don't know about that one. I don't think that she knows, for that matter. It lets her see in the dark, but that's all I could find out."

Moral added, "But they've all figured out how to summon the armor and use their weapons. They practice in a little spot near the beach. We've never got too close, though, because it'd be real easy to spot us."

"And we've found a few weaknesses you could use, my lord," said Cade, smiling a little as he watched Talpa turn to peer at him once more. He could tell the demon was very interested. "Hardrock and Halo—both of them speak English very poorly, and don't blend in well. More importantly, Hardrock is an albino—his skin is pale and does not protect well against sun. His eyesight is poor as well, as a result." Cade outright grinned, knowing he and Moral had done well. "The child who bears the daytime armor is nearly helpless in the dark, and I will assume the night armor does not do well in the daytime. Strata and Night have gotten the least amount of information about their armors and powers, and know only how to use the weaponry. Strata has only just recently discovered his element."

"The Halo girl, she needs to eat more often than the others," said Moral. "Some...hypo...sugar thing."

"Hypoglycemia," corrected Cade. "Low blood sugar. Most interesting, however, is Wildfire. He has a deathly fear of water, and he can't swim."

Talpa laughed then, setting the hairs on the back of Cade's neck on end. "Wonderful," said Talpa, his laughter tapering to a pleased chuckle. "I believe Sekhmet might enjoy toying with that one. You both have done well, and have earned my favor."

Moral and Cade both exchanged another grin, before bowing and making their manners. (Moral had learned the protocols quickly!)

"Is there anything else?" Talpa asked.

"We've got their names," said Cade, "and where they work, but nothing more."

"Good. You may leave. And tell Kale that I have decided to attack their city. I cannot avoid those wretched Ronin brats no matter where I choose to strike, and so I will strike their home town."

"Yes, master," said Cade, bowing low, and leaving the room, Moral right at his heels.

Once outside, the two boys exchanged high-fives, grinning from ear to ear. They couldn't have asked for a better result from their first solo mission!

As they headed outside towards the training slab, where the others were in the middle of their daily exercises, Kale looked up and raised a brow. Moral and Cade had not been in the mortal world continuously, but they had been there for days at a time, but they seemed now to be finished with their mission. "Can I assume you have done well?" he asked the youths.

Cade grinned. "Yeah! We found out a lot of things. Master Talpa was pleased."

"We rocked!" Moral added with a laugh. Both of them were far more comfortable away from Talpa's imposing, intimidating presence.

Kale gazed on the boys sternly for a moment, then simply shook his head and smiled faintly. They'd earned the right to a little cockiness. "Well done."

"Mater Talpa says his first attack will be their city."

"I am not surprised," said Kale with a knowing little nod. "Well then, get into training. You'll not be excused from practice."

Moral and Taylor agreeably enough jumped into the spars that raged across the concrete slab, eager for a little action after so much reconnaissance. Cade jumped uninvited into a brawl between Haazita and Shuang (they welcomed him by dogpiling him), and Moral challenged Jin Tanaka to a duel.

-

"This could be trouble," said Dais quietly a few moments later as they watched the fighting practice. Kale looked around, following Dais's gaze to Jin Tanaka and Moral Sullivan. Though Jin had not bonded with any of the other warlords, she at least did not openly quarrel with them...except for Moral. They'd not gotten along since the first day Moral had joined them, and it had gotten no better. To Jin, honor was everything, and to Moral, it meant very little. The two seemed to clash every other day.

Kale snarled. "They'd better not screw up. Not now, this close to our attack." For the time being, however, he did not intervene, only watched the confrontation, hoping they'd decide not to be stupid.

Jin looked coolly at the youth as he challenged her, looking down her nose at the honorless boy from America. "You are not worthy to fight me," said she, turning her back on the youth, a blatant insult. Kale wondered why Moral had chosen her to spar with, though he had to admit that the youth had done nothing wrong. Moral said nothing, only narrowed his eyes in surprised fury, and silently armored up. As Moral drew the vulgar laser pistol he favored as a weapon, Kale stepped forward, intending to intervene, but Sekhmet shot his hand out to catch his arm.

"Wait," said Sekhmet quickly, looking thoughtfully at the pair. "Let them be for now."

Kale frowned as Sekhmet let go of his arm, wondering why in the blazes Sekhmet would risk the wrath of their master in order to enjoy a duel among the lower warlords, but Sekhmet only grinned and nodded towards the two combatants. Waiting for the moment, Kale looked, and listened. Perhaps Sekhmet was right—Jin's standoffishness had created a subtle, but potentially crippling rift in the group in general, and was something that needed to be changed. Kale had been subtle about it, praising the others for working together, encouraging them to spend time outside of practice getting to know their brothers in arms, and excluding Jin from his commendation. But the woman, if she noticed, had given no sign.

Moral's voice rang out clearly: "Turn around and face me, you bitch!"

Kale felt his own eyes widen, as all went still on the training slab. Even Haazita, Shuang, and Cade, in the midst of a fierce melee, stopped at this ringing offense, Haazita still pinning Shuang down on the rock. Moral was not normally so nervy, and had not so blatantly disrespected his seniors before. Jin had been there far longer than he, and though technically they held no rank, Jin was still his superior. The boy must have finally had enough.

The woman stopped dead and spun around, also armoring up, looking startled for only a moment that Moral was in full armor and holding his weapon on her. "_Kaoyogoshi_," she hissed, drawing the katana she bore on her back. The word meant "dishonor".

"Yeah, so you've said about a million times," snarled Moral. "So what's that make you, you goddamned snob? It ain't just me, either, though you hate me worst, just because my skills are thieving and winning no matter what. You killed unarmed people as an assassin, how's that any better than what I do? All you were was some Japanese gangster!"

Jin's narrowed eyes looked black, her pupils dilated with hatred, the hand that gripped her sword shaking. Kale noticed several of the other lessers glancing up at him, Dais, and Sekhmet, but the two combatants had not so much as glanced up. Jin hissed a furious curse in Japanese, lunging for Moral, who dodged out of the way. He fired his laser, only just missing Jin as she leapt lithely into the air.

"We should watch carefully," said Sekhmet quietly, "so they don't hurt each other. Too badly. But...this might just do some good with that one." He nodded at Jin, who lunged again at Moral, missing the boy a second time.

"Perhaps so," said Kale quietly, watching the battle. Moral had been hopeless in combat before arriving in the Nether World, but had improved a hundred-fold since then. Kale watched the boy, surprised at the skill and physical grace that he showed. Such an improvement—Kale was proud of him. He also admired his nerve in standing up to the Warlord of Cruelty, though disapproved of how he'd gone about it.

Jin, who held the boy in the utmost contempt, seemed surprised at his skill. Those she disdained, she tended to underestimate as well, and she'd not exactly paid the other warlords much attention before.

The others had taken cover from Moral's laser weapon, but stayed close enough to watch. Cade and Heath looked astonished, while Haazita and Shuang seemed to be enjoying the fight, even quietly cheering Moral's fighting. Vittorio only watched as if he thought the fighters had lost their minds.

Moral cried out in pain as Jin's katana finally scored along his back, and he rolled away from the attack, kicking out a foot at her hand. He connected, but did not disarm her, and they both paused for a moment, panting. "Dais works with illusion and deception too," Moral hissed. "You gonna call him _kaoyogoshi_, too?"

Kale glanced at Dais, whose blue eye had narrowed. "That was out of line," said Kale quietly. "I'll speak to him later."

"How dare you?" demanded Jin.

"I dare easy! Face it, you just want an excuse to dump on me! I'm not stupid, I'm not skill-less, and I'm a part of this damned group—which is more than I can say for you!"

Jin's eyes widened, and her arms twitched, as though about to strike, but there was a strange look on her face. Despite wanting to slice him to ribbons, his words had obviously had an effect. "You care to explain, _boy_, or are you just flapping your ever-moving lips?"

Moral actually laughed. "You're so wrapped up in convincing yourself you're all that and a bag of chips--" Kale blinked, vowing to ask Cade later about that one, "—that you don't even see! You're only a part of this group in the most—shallow friggin' way possible! But you think you're so much better than us, you join us only when you have to, and don't talk to any of us unless it's business! Do you know what I like to do when I'm not training? Do you know my middle name? Hell, do you even know my first name?" It wasn't just a rhetorical question, Kale decided; Jin had never spoken the boy's name that he could remember. "All you do is train with us. You're not really _one_ of us."

Jin had never been confronted outright about her standoffishness before, and it was clear she didn't know how to react. Knowing something of how she worked, Kale suspected that her sense of outrage at the boy's disrespect was conflicting with the honorable part of her that might be telling her the kid had a point.

Moral stood up straight, stepping back and sheathing his laser gun. He banished his armor, looking at the woman with disgust. "I'm sick of how you treat me. You want so bad to be by yourself, then go _be_ by yourself. I could care less." The young man walked away then, feigning carelessness, but Kale could see he was shaking. Moral walked to the cliff face that bordered the slab and leaned against it, glaring at Jin and crossing his arms.

Jin Tanaka stood still for several moments, her expression blank, before sheathing her own weapon and armoring down. Only then did she seem to realize that everyone was watching them, her face coloring slightly. She did not blush often, so Kale knew she was feeling very uncomfortable.

"We are finished for the day!" Kale called out in Japanese, deciding it was time to intervene. "Moral! Come here!"

As the rest of them dispersed, Moral approached the elder warlords, his furious mask melting into an expression of wariness. 'He expects to be punished,' Kale thought suddenly, hiding his wry amusement at the realization. "You're not to be disciplined," said Kale as he neared, and watched the young man visibly relax. "But your mention of Dais was inappropriate. You showed him disrespect by using him in your argument."

Moral blinked, obviously not having thought of it that way. He was deceitful and rarely fought fair, but at least he knew when he was out of line and knew how to respond. Moral bowed low to Dais. "Sorry, Dais-san," he said, the phrase made strange by the foreign accent. "Wasn't thinking of that. I was just too pissed."

With a slight smile, Dais inclined his head, accepting the apology.

"I'm not gonna get nailed for fighting, am I?" Moral asked, looking more anxious now. He clearly remembered the last time he'd been punished for fighting with the others.

"No," said Kale. "Not this time. We three felt it best to allow this altercation to happen. But remember this will not be tolerated normally."

Laughing in relief, Moral nodded quickly. "I'll remember," he said. "But jeez, me and Cade just finished doing good on this mission, and we were gonna spar people, and she just...sneers at me and says I'm not worthy. I'm so sick of her!"

"Understandable," said Dais. "Perhaps next time you will think of a different way to bring up your complaint?"

After spending a couple of moments decided that Dais was not angry, Moral shrugged a little sheepishly. "Yeah...maybe I will. Maybe not. My hard head, you know."

Kale could not help a chuckle. "We know all too well. Dismissed then." Kale watched the youth run off, then turned to the others. "Good thinking, Sekhmet. I think that was necessary. I don't think anyone of them have out and out told Jin she was being arrogant until now."

"This one incident won't change her," said Sekhmet, looking pleased, "but I've been noticing the others shunning her now for a while. Maybe now she'll begin noticing it. No one likes being shunned, anyway."

Kale nodded. "Yes, and I have made sure to praise others for their camaraderie, excluding her when I did. She's stubborn and proud, but not stupid."

"I only hope it won't go the other way and turn her completely against all of us," said Dais. "If she'd only crack once, do something that shows she cares of her comrades live or die!"

"Only time will tell," said Kale.

And time did tell. Sekhmet was right in that the one incident certainly didn't turn the woman around, but it had been the hammer-strike necessary to get her attention. After a week of icy tolerance from the others (and outright ignoring by Moral), Jin had finally made a formal apology to them all. Her peers had seemed shocked, but Kale wasn't surprised. Whatever she did, she did with ceremony and formality. If she could just relax that a little sometimes, it wouldn't be nearly so hard to integrate into the group!

From that point on, slowly, she began to get a little more involved with the others. All three elder warlords noticed how much better the group worked together, the lack of tension, the invisible barrier that kept them from being a complete team weakened. Kale had expected Moral to be the last to truly join the group, but it had been Jin instead, and by the time September had passed in the mortal world, the team was truly a team.

"Not completely," he said to himself once. It had taken years for the others to form their bonds. "But the arrogant barrier is down." He grinned, suddenly remembering Sekhmet quite hastily explaining to Talpa why he had allowed the fight, and then remembered Sekhmet's proud grin when Talpa admitted he had done right, and commended him for his action. "Miserable snake was smug for three days, too," Kale muttered, not without some amusement.

Autumn was well begun when Talpa called the warlords into his throne chamber. Kale, Dais, and Sekhmet arrived first, kneeling, then standing aside. The lesser ranks arrived afterwards to give their respects, and the ten of them stood quietly to hear their master's wishes.

"We are ready to attack," said Talpa quietly. "You have been told what will happen. We will attack the city, destroy the buildings and the streets, and capture who you can. They will be imprisoned here, in my realm, where their fear will empower me."

"And the Ronin, master?" asked Sekhmet.

For a moment, Talpa didn't answer, and seemed to be considering the question. Finally, he answered, "Alive. Capture them alive. I have not yet given up hope in reuniting the nine armors. However even if I cannot use the armors, I will gain pleasure in seeing them suffer here, and the realms will remain separate. But their pain will empower me as well."

Sekhmet's grin widened. "Understood, Master Talpa," he said. "We won't worry too much about their comfort in bringing them to you!" Autumn was the season his armor was most attuned with, and it invigorated him, making him eager for a fight. He looked forward to the coming battle.

"See that you don't," agreed Talpa. "Kale. I will be watching. When you find the Ronin, signal me. I will be waiting to strike with my power. We will separate them, as happened once before, but this time _I_ will control where they go, and will not make the mistake of sending them where they can gain power from their own elements —I cannot yet reach through the barrier to bring them here directly. I will split them apart, and attack them one at a time; this will take much of my energy. When they are weakened, strike. Bring them here."

Kale bowed briefly, saluting with his fist across his chest. "We will be ready, master."

"My Dynasty soldiers are numerous, and the Nether Spirits are ready. While you deal with the Ronin brats, I will be strengthening my hold on the mortal world. The mortals will fall, and I will reign both worlds!" Voices raised in savage cheers, fists raised in anticipatory victory, as Talpa's eager laughter echoed in the chamber. "Go, then!" cried Talpa.

The ten warriors saluted, departing the chamber and calling for their armors. Talpa strode out after them, watching them disappear through the gates he had created to lead into the mortal realm. He remained where he was for the time being; he would appear once the mortals had gotten a taste of his power.


	22. Destruction

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 22: Destruction**

September seemed to go by quickly. Nohano spent the days rehearsing, sparring, and performing. The San Francisco Renaissance Faire ended, and No Quarter began its season playing at the Jolly Roger theme restaurant. It was a huge difference playing indoors, with the dingy lighting and with tiers of tables surrounding the performance area.

They performed in the hour before the actual show began, watching people filing in from outside, talking amongst themselves, or cheering the group's singing. Nohano, who had been singing lead far more often since Robert's death, was a little intimidated by the amount of people the place held.

When the show started, the "captain" of the place introduced No Quarter, then the rest of the acts that would take place. He treated the guests as if they were the scurvy crew of a ruthless pirate galleon, to their delight. There were duels with swords and reenactments of famous pirate battles. The whole place looked like the lower deck of a sailing ship, with the music stage at the bow.

It was definitely different! Nohano preferred the faires, especially since they were outside, but he still enjoyed their performances.

Killian got his citizenship papers, giving him dual citizenship with the United States and Australia both. After living a few weeks with Killian and Nohano, Xan began relaxing his tough, defensive mask more and more, and they soon became a trio rather than a pair. When they had spare time, which was admittedly not too often, he would often compete against Killian on the Nintendo Centurion they'd bought with their wages. Or he would watch Killian and Nohano roughhouse, sometimes cheering, sometimes joining in.

Tarun had discovered that his school had a Kabaddi team, a sport that came from Asia and had become very popular in the United States over the past fifty years; he had played it at the orphanage where he'd lived. It was a strange sort of sport, something between tag and wrestling. It was fast-paced and used massive amounts of energy, which made it perfect for Tarun. The boy was thrilled to make the team, and spent a half-hour one day speaking happily of their first practice.

Killian discovered unexpectedly that not only could he breathe underwater, but he could cleanse it, as well. During one of the group's training sessions, he'd been out in the water sparring with Demetrius, and run into some kind of oil spill. Demetrius had recoiled in disgust, but Killian had not. After practice, Killian said that when he saw the creatures the spill had killed, and the oily birds that flapped about in the water, he almost literally saw red. "I just sorta went out there with my armor on, and swam through that filthy gunk. I dunno how, but when I was done, the oily crap wasn't there anymore."

"That's great," said Suisei with a grin. "Our own personal water treatment plant."

Everyone laughed, and Killian had chased Suisei around the stretch of beach until he was able to tackle him to the sand.

"I wonder where that slick came from, anyway," said Nohano.

It could be from anything, said Rashida. Pollution dumped from a ship weeks ago could have made it here. Or a damaged boat. Or factory waste. She sighed quietly. That is the reason most beaches are off limits now. Except the ones they've been able to clean up and shield from the ocean proper. She walked over to the backpack she'd taken to bringing to their sparring sessions and grabbing a small package of crackers. When she'd nearly fainted during one of their training sessions, she decided she needed to bring nourishment, even if it would be a few hours.

"That's really a shame," said Nohano quietly. "How could people dump that crap into the water? Aren't there laws against that kind of thing?" He noticed Demetrius wasn't entirely thrilled, either; his white hair was streaked with black, and he'd banished his oily armor, his blue eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Sure," said Killian disgustedly. "But they're hard to enforce, and companies get sneaky. It's worse than ever. I'm tempted to go into one of these places sometime with my armor on and wreak a little vengeance for the hundreds of creatures they've killed."

"Hey, if I thought it'd do any good, I'd be right there with ya," said Nohano, and everyone else agreed.

I hope that won't be there when I next summon my armor, Demetrius grouched.

"Hey!" said Tarun suddenly. "Next week's our first kabaddi game! You guys will all come to see it!" His tone left no room for argument.

Laughing, Nohano crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "And just when did we decide this, hmmmm?"

"Just now! Besides, you'll all be glad to see me using up all my energy."

No one could argue that! Suisei laughed and said, "That's not possible, Tarun. You don't run out of energy. You know, if I am Comet, you should be Meteor. Fast and short."

That seemed to tickle Tarun, for he spent the whole way home giggling about being a meteor. By the time they reached Suisei and Tarun's apartment, everyone had agreed they would come and watch the boy's first kabaddi match. Nohano was intrigued by the sport, and didn't really have much of a clear idea of it from the kid's descriptions.

Everyone was glad to take a day off from training to watch the game. The seven of them entered the elementary school stadium to several odd looks. Nohano supposed they did make quite an odd assortment, what with all the nationalities, and Demetrius's albinism. Still, no one seemed unfriendly, so Nohano didn't mind being peered at by a person or three. In San Francisco, different nationalities weren't too uncommon, anyway. He was surprised at how many people had shown up to watch an elementary school game, but remembered that kabaddi was a very popular sport. Probably half the school had come to watch.

The group got a seat in the aluminum bleachers, near the front row, and Nohano looked the field over. It was all beach sand, with lines marked on the sides, that Nohano assumed were out of bounds, or something similar. Seven adults in striped shirts came out, and Nohano realized these were the officials. "Seven officials?" he asked, surprised. "Does kabaddi always have that many?"

Suisei laughed. "Yes. It's a difficult sport to judge. The raider of one team is sent out to tag members of the other team. The officials have to determine who gets tagged. The raider also has to chant 'kabaddi-kabaddi' the whole time, because he has to tag the other team and get back to his own team before his one breath runs out."

Nohano gave Suisei a very strange look, suspecting he was being had. "He has to do it all without taking a breath?"

"Yep!"

"That's really bizarre!" laughed Nohano. "Sounds pretty fun, though. Hey, we should get up a game, all eight of us."

"A good idea," said Demetrius, grinning. "Of course you know that I must win such a match."

There erupted a barrage of good-natured protests to this boast, until one of the officials blew on his whistle, grabbing the attention of the spectators. "Welcome to our first match of the season! We welcome our opponents from Southside Elementary!"

The crowd broke out into polite applause as a team of kids Tarun's age ran out onto the field, dressed in shorts and tight-fitting, sleeveless shirts. The official then announced Tarun's team, the Hitchcock School Pounders. Nohano cheered as Tarun's team ran out, with Tarun in the lead, his eyes searching the bleachers. When he caught sight of Nohano and the others, he waved enthusiastically before joining his team on one end of the field.

The game was interesting, to say the least. The Southside team won the draw to go first, sending out as the raider a burly boy who began muttering under his breath, one of the seven officials running right beside him. Nohano wondered at first why the boy was being so quiet until Rashida pointed out that being quiet would save him breath.

Tarun's team linked arms to form a human chain, dodging around and trying not to get tagged. When the opposing boy managed to tap one of them on the arm, that person broke from the chain and lunged at the boy, tackling him to the sand. The boy kept chanting, though Nohano could see he'd gotten a mouthful of sand, and the two fought. Finally, the raider had to gasp in a breath, slapping his fists down on the sand as Tarun's teammate stood up. He gave the opposing raider a hand up and the boys shook hands, each retreating to his side of the field.

There was very little variation in the game, but it was a lot of fun to watch all the same. There was a lot of amusing-looking dodging and wrestling, and plenty to cheer for. Nohano laughed as Tarun was selected as raider, and the boy dashed to the opposite side, tagging two of the others and making a sprint for his home side. But now he had two people trying to keep him from returning home!

He nearly made it, but one of the boys tackled him around the legs near the home base, and Tarun gasped in air. He laughed as the other players helped him up, and staggered back to his team in an exaggerated show of fatigue.

The game was close, but ultimately, Tarun's team lost to their opponents. No one seemed too put out about it; it was clearly a sport that was easy to enjoy, no matter who won. The boys and girls (there were a couple) all shook hands before walking off the field and joining parents and friends in the bleachers.

"Hey, you did great!" said Suisei when Tarun ran up, laughing and lifting the boy into the air.

"Yeah, you did," said Xan, grinning up at the kid. "You'll have to teach us all to play."

"I can do that!" said Tarun as he was set back onto the ground, shaking sand from his clothing. "It's really easy. All you--" He cut off suddenly, snapping his head up to look at the sky. Nohano followed his gaze and was uneased to see the clouds rolling in, fast. He had gotten used to the sky clouding over at odd times in the weeks past, seeing nothing of whatever had caused it, but this time, there was something different. The clouds were thicker, darker, blanketing the entire area.

Other people were beginning to notice, too, as the day grew dimmer and dimmer. "I don't like this," murmured Nohano, all trace of cheer gone from his face. "Come on guys, let's get back to the car, quick. I got a bad feeling about this!"

Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the suddenly black skies with a haze of unnatural red light.

"Shit," Nohano hissed.

The lightning seemed to have spooked everyone, because the entire crowd broke into a quasi-trot, moving towards the exit like a giant creature with dozens of legs. Nohano and his group were towards the tail end of the "creature", Nohano glancing upwards every once in a while, wanting to know ahead of time if something was going to happen.

"Nohano, Nohano!"

As Tarun's alarmed voice, Nohano looked at where the child pointed. Towards the center of the city, the form of an enormous castle began to glow faintly among the roiling storm clouds. Nohano stopped dead, feeling his knees tremble, as he recognized the awful shape of the pagoda-like fortress. He had dreamt of it in his nightmare. It was upside down for some inexplicable reason, and not quite in focus, but it didn't look silly; in fact it made the whole thing even scarier.

"What the hell is _that?_" Xander demanded, sounding more baffled and indignant than fearful.

'Of course he's not afraid. He's never seen it before.'

"The Dynasty," whispered Amaya, coming up to stand near Nohano. "The Dynasty is here—forget the car! It will not start! We must take cover!"

Nohano shook his head violently enough to make it ache, realizing that the others were all looking to him for a decision. "We take cover!" he called. "We—we armor up, and—and get ready to fight. We gotta protect the people! Just the riot gear for now, we don't want to use the armor's energy until we have to!"

Taking a last look at the malignant pagoda, hovering from the air like some kind of horrible tumor, Nohano sprinted for the bleachers, which were now deserted.

As the eight Ronin crouched behind the bleachers, the wind gusted hard enough to nearly knock Tarun onto the ground. The dire wail of a nearby air raid siren suddenly shrieked, making everyone jump, and Killian clamped his hands over his ears, looking terrified. Nohano suddenly remembered the hurricane in Darwin, Australia, the air raid sirens, and the laser weapons.

As the others began summoning their riot gear, Nohano ran to Killian and grabbed his shoulder. Killian started, turning horrified eyes on Nohano—it was the sirens, Nohano realized suddenly. 'The sirens, just like in Australia. He knows now, knows with every fiber of his being, that we're to go to war.'

Nohano hated seeing that look on Killian's face, and hated that Killian had to fight in a war against a country that wasn't even his own. Using the mind link, Nohano poured all the sincerity he could muster into one statement: 'I'm right here.'

Killian began to cry, looking suddenly years younger, and Nohano put his arms around him. He started as it began to rain, looking up at the storm clouds in distaste. He glanced at the others, then looked back to Killian. "Hey," he said as quietly as he could and still be heard above the sirens. "You don't have--"

"I do," said Killian, clenching his fists and looking back towards the city. "I do have to...I know I do. I—I just--" The boy took a big breath and held it, while Nohano did what he could to reassure him. "Let's—let's go."

With a burst of pride for Killian, Nohano nodded and stepped back. This was it. All they'd been training for, everything they'd prepared for would begin that day. Nohano tried very hard not to think about it as he grasped the armor sphere in his pocket and clutched it, feeling the comforting, warm weight of the riot gear settle on his body. 'Boy, they thought this was a weird-lookin' group before,' he thought with giddy amusement, 'they should see us now!' But there was no one around to see—everyone had either fled quickly or vanished into thin air, and Nohano wasn't quite sure which.

At first, he was at a loss as to what they should do, but then he caught another glimpse of the pagoda, which seemed to have sparked itself over San Francisco. "Come on," he said shakily, pointing. "I get the idea we gotta head towards that."

"Oh, fantastic," he heard Xan utter, and heard something muttered in Russian. Demetrius, who had been doing very well with his English and who now had the Ronin' mental link to use, had not brought his translator, but Nohano had the idea that he was swearing.

Nohano set a fast walking pace towards the middle of the city, not wanting to run and use up his energy before they even got anywhere near the place. "Don't get split up," said Nohano tensely. "Whatever happens, everyone has at least one other with him."

"Or her," said Rashida in a feeble attempt at humor.

Nohano laughed weakly, but looking at the girl's fearful expression didn't make him feel much better. It was discomfiting to see the usually stoic Ronin looking afraid.

"Am I big enough to count as one?" Tarun asked in all seriousness.

"Yes," said Nohano with another shaky laugh. "Yes, you count as one."

"So what do we do if we encounter one of those damned warlords?" asked Xan. "Do we attack them outright, or—or what?"

"If we come across them," said Nohano as they marched towards the town, "I get the idea they'll attack us first. Keep yourself safe, keep—keep the people safe as best you can. We need to find that Talpa jerk. He's the one behind all of this. You remember when I described him, right?" He'd realized that Talpa and the demon from his nightmare were one and the same, able to remember a basic description.

"He will be difficult to miss," said Rashida, and added a rather vicious curse that Nohano recognized.

"If he's got the guts to come out, anyway," said Xan. "Seems kind funny we've only seen his miserable goons."

"We'll find out, I guess," said Nohano grimly.

It could not have been later than five in the afternoon, but it was so dark out it nearly seemed to be nighttime. The streets were deserted, and the sirens still wailed, sending a chill through Nohano's body. He'd always hated those air raid/tornado sirens, partly because they foretold disaster, but mostly because their sound was so different than anything else. They didn't sound like police or ambulance sirens—they revved up into discordant, multi-tonal peals that echoed around the whole city. Nohano shuddered, especially when he realized the sirens were the only electronic things still working. "Power source must be far underground," me muttered.

The first group of soldiers took the Ronin by surprise. Huge, hulking suits of empty Oriental armor, riding horses and chariots. An entire patrol of them thundered across their path, and Nohano saw in horror that they had hold of several terrified people, all fighting to free themselves from their ghoulish captors.

Nohano didn't have to give the order; the others were already calling their armor, and the flashes of colored light made the strange soldiers flinch back for just a second. Nohano called out in a voice that shook, "Armor of Wildfire!" His heart beat quickly and his limbs shook as he watched the creatures turn, some throwing down the people they'd held, some fleeing with their burdens. Nohano didn't even want to think what they were going to do to those poor people! "Be careful of the people! Get them free!"

He cried out in pain as something hit him from behind, and he spun around, dismayed to see half a dozen more soldiers rushing them, and he yanked his katana from their sheaths on his back. With a furious double swipe, he cut a great slash in the soldier's armor, loosing wisps of vile, pinkish smoke. He blinked for a moment in surprise, pushing his helmet up a little to better see, and realized that there was nothing inside them. "Automatons," he murmured. But they were fueled by magic, he supposed! They must be the soldiers Amaya tried once to describe!

The important thing was that they were not difficult to defeat; they were more frightening than deadly.

He gave a yell and charged a second group of them, slashing at one's back and watching him fall to the ground, the spinning around to block the attack of two more. For the next few minutes, Nohano hardly thought; all was a whirl of slashing blade, clanging steel, and an occasional cry of attack or pain from his companions. He shielded the people from weaponry, and he saw Killian and Xander both dashing into the fighting to help the people away. But they weren't getting all of them, Nohano realized in horror. Several had gotten away with their captives.

Very soon, a large pile of empty, smoking armor lay on the darkened streets, and Nohano stared at them, feeling stunned. He suddenly laughed in amazement; their first real victory as a team! He turned to the others, who all looked just as shell-shocked, and asked if they were all right.

"Yeah, we're good, mate," said Killian, his voice far calmer than it had been back at the elementary school. "But we gotta get these people out of there. I-I couldn't-we didn't get them all."

"We must take care of Talpa," said Amaya grimly. "The people he has will be freed then." Killian's haunted expression lessened then, though he clearly wasn't happy about the situation. He turned then to the huddle of people cowering near a deserted video store, staring at the Ronin as if they were demons from hell.

They probably think we're one of them, said Nohano sympathetically. They're out of their minds with fear. Gods, I don't blame them.

Killian frowned, signaling for the others to stay back. Cover me, all right? I'm going to armor down.

Nohano almost stopped him—he didn't like the idea of Killian exposing his identity, but then held back at the last minute, only acknowledging Killian and watching his back. These people were in no condition to remember anything about them, and even if they did, what were the chances of meeting them again in the streets? There were only about twenty of them.

Killian banished both armor and riot gear, and once he was clad only in his street clothing, he was not nearly so intimidating. He spoke quietly to the people, though Nohano could not hear what was said, and slowly approached. Most of them cowered back some, but of all the Ronin, Killian was best at dealing with frightened human beings. Where do we send these guys? asked Killian. We can't take them with us, and if they leave on their own...

Nohano sighed, not sure how to answer. But Rashida made a suggestion. Direct them to one of the shelters, she said. Make sure they know how to avoid the notice of these soldiers, give them some information about how they operate. Give them as much of an advantage as you can. I think that is all we can do.

Okay. Even Killian's mental voice was strained, as he began talking once more with the people. Eventually several of them began nodding, and a few of the adults seemed to be taking charge of the group. Nohano noticed furiously there were half a dozen children in among them, and vowed revenge for the terror the poor things had endured. And how many had been captured?

Once the citizens had disappeared into the shadows, heading for the nearest public shelter, Killian armored up once more, looking a little shaky. Nohano pt a hand on his shoulder.

A sudden, massive crashing sound from several streets away caught their attention; a rise of debris-smoke puffed into the air, taken immediately by the wind, and Nohano realized that an entire building had been destroyed, or at least very badly damaged. He stared, horrified, as another rending sound echoed in the streets. Whatever the main commotion was, they were getting close. "Come on!" he cried, breaking into a run. He prayed silently that no one had been killed. He knew that the officials would be getting people under cover—but he hadn't _seen_ any officials! No cops, no National Guard, no Anti-Terrorist squads!

"Look!" cried Demetrius as the group ran towards the sound of the crashing. They all stopped short as a huge skyscraper that Nohano recognized as the First National bank building, rent in half as if someone had taken a giant sword to it. The building half collapsed, spewing rubble and broken glass onto the street. To Nohano's horror, half the buildings on the street had suffered the same fate. There were no people still around, and Nohano could only hope that meant they'd made it to the public shelters.

The sudden sound of helicopters sounded overhead, and Nohano watched, sudden hope spreading from his chest to the rest of his body. "Take cover, guys, it's the military!" There was no mistaking the camouflaged pattern on the whirlybirds, and for just a few moments, Nohano thought it would be all right.

The eight youngsters darted beneath a abandoned subway kiosk, peering out from beneath the dubious shelter of its roof to see what happened. Nohano didn't know what the others did when they saw it, but he fell to the ground, sitting on his hind end and gaping in horrified fascination.

There were things floating in the air. Things. Nohano didn't know what they were, but they were magical, that was all that he could tell. The choppers that approached fired on them, but did no good whatsoever—for a few brief moments there were machine guns and laser weapons crashing overhead, and then the horrid sound of crashing metal, and the deafening roar of a sudden explosion. Another burst of gunfire, a flash of unnatural lightning, another crash... The military was being shot down as easily as if they were made of paper, and it was then that Nohano truly realized the enormity of the situation he'd been thrust into. "We don't have a chance," he whispered. "Dead, all of them..." The motors, he realized dazedly. Their motors had stalled, just like the cars.

He almost didn't feel the small hand on his arm through the armor. Tarun stood there in his bright armor, his face solemn and scared, but determined still. "We do," he whispered. "We have a chance. We have to! We'll get them. We're the good guys...we _have_ to win."

Nohano could have said that being the "good guys" didn't mean anything, but he didn't. In fact, Tarun's determination gave him some of his resolve back. "Thanks, kiddo," he said, standing up and breathing deeply. "Let's go, guys. I dunno what we can do, not against this, but—we've gotta do what we can. And maybe we can take a few of them out with us!"

Suisei raised a fist in the air. "Let's go," he said with a wild sort of grin. "They'll be sorry to mess with us!"

Nohano would never forget that day. The eight Ronin ventured out into the city proper once more, encountering several patrols of the empty armor-soldiers, and defeated them as they went on. They managed to save several of the people, though Nohano didn't know if they ended up all right or not once Killian had sent them on their way. Nohano fought more that day than he had ever fought at one time.

Lightning from the clouds overhead and dark energy from the strange figures floating in the sky had, in the space of an hour, destroyed half the city. Nohano had never, ever walked through a city that had been so badly ruined, not even in his Australia dream. Even without the armor-soldiers to fight, their journey was awful.

Hulks of once-towering skyscrapers and the burnt-out, demolished shells of strip malls and shops loomed everywhere, destroyed by dark magic. Cars, useless in the power that had blanketed the city, sat abandoned where their drivers had left them, some having run into others or turned over. The streetlights had gone out, leaving the only light from the lightning and a sickly glow from the magic-things floating overhead. Even the streets themselves looked as if they had been torn up by laser fire, and Nohano figured some of the military's lasers must have hit ground. But not all of it looked like laser damage. Some was less identifiable.

Then there was the pagoda, hovering like death above the skyscrapers. Somehow that was the worst, so impossible, and vile. And over it all, spreading like a bruise, the greenish pallor of the clouds and the darkness they cast.

"I wonder if the guys're okay," said Nohano glumly hours later, thinking of the rest of No Quarter. It had been over an hour since they encountered the last patrol of armor-soldiers, and everyone had gone back to wearing their riot gear. Rashida and Tarun in particular had said they were beginning to feel their power weakening, and Nohano realized that there was nothing nearby to energize them. It was evening, which meant that Tarun couldn't re-energize until morning, and Rashida needed light, which they were quite short of.


	23. National Emergency

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 23: National Emergency**

By the time night had fallen, distinguishable from day only in the drop of temperature, Nohano announced they would need to find a place to camp out. "I don't know where these Dynasty bastards are," he said, "but we're worn out. We need to find some place safe to hide out in, get some rest and re-energize, and then...then we go back out, I guess."

"We'll find them, Wildfire," said Amaya, smiling a little at him. "We'll find them, and make them pay."

Nohano managed to smile back at her unexpected encouragement. "I hope so. I wonder where everyone is—have they all made it to the shelters?"

"Many, likely," said Demetrius. Hie pale face was far grimmer than normal, and it was a striking difference from what Nohano was used to seeing. "I think some have died. But many have been taken.."

"Taken?" said Tarun, sounding both tired and scared. "You mean prisoners?"

"Yes," said Amaya, her tone unhappy. "My father—he said once that the Dynasty would take people prisoner, hundreds of them at a time. But they wouldn't kill them."

"Why?" asked Xan, frowning.

"I don't know."

'Perfect,' Nohano thought as they marched into a residential area. The idea of the townspeople being held prisoner in some dark, dank dungeon pit did not encourage him any, and he hoped again the ones they'd saved had made it somewhere safe. Scowling, he peered into the nearest of the half-fallen houses, a one-story cottage with a cellar. He decided it would make a decent shelter, as the basement was not exposed, and would shield them both from sight and other dangers. "In here, guys—we can wait out the night in here."

"What if it comes down on us?" asked Suisei doubtfully.

"We should be all right," said Nohano. "It's mostly wood, and it's half down, anyway. With our armor, we should be safe enough."

"You mean the riot gear?" asked Suisei. They'd all adopted that term from Nohano.

"Yeah. Come on." Nohano crept into the house through the back door, treading carefully on the debris-strewn floor. He located the stairs to the basement easily enough, and tested them, finding them to be made of stone. "Okay, it's down here. It seems okay."

He heard the clatter of the others' boots on the stairs behind him as he crept down, feeling around for a light switch. He wasn't all too surprised to find that the lights did not work.

"I've got a little flashlight on my key chain," said Suisei. Nohano heard the sound of jangling keys, and wondered how Suisei had gotten to them with his riot gear on. A moment later the question was answered, when a surprisingly bright light shone in the cellar, and he saw Suisei didn't have the armor on. "I'll get it back on in a minute," the older youth said.

Nohano nodded, looking dispiritedly around. He felt numb—he'd never thought he would ever see what he'd seen that day. He never thought to see his own city in ruins, and himself one of the only things that could save it. His breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes for a moment, wrenching his thoughts to anything but that.

"Seem okay," said Rashida. "And a strong table for cover if things fall." She nodded her head towards what looked like a pool table with the felt ripped off. It made Nohano feel a little better; like she'd said, it would be good cover. He wondered who had lived there, and what they'd been doing with the table. Was it used for pool, or something else? Were they refinishing it? Was it salvaged from the dumpster? Nohano suddenly hoped that its owner would someday be able to return to his project.

"And look, a little radio." Tarun trotted over to the far end of the little basement and brought out a hand-held radio, turning it on and trying to get it to work. Unsettlingly, there seemed to be nothing on the air at all, only blank noise, and sometimes static. Nohano was a little relieved at hearing music blaring from one of the stations on the satellite bands, however, since most of those were not in the city.

"Try the emergency station," said Amaya.

Tarun obediently flipped the switch in the back to the emergency frequency, and Nohano listened to a grim-toned woman reporting that the airforce had been sent in to "deal with" the terrorist attacks on the city of San Francisco. "There are reports pouring out of the city of mass hallucinations, bombings, and illegal laser-weaponry. Several squads of anti-terrorist soldiers have been sent in, but no word has come from San Francisco of their progress. All routes into the city have been blocked, and no one is being allowed in. Any managing to escape are being taken into the protection of the government, sent to refugee shelters until they can be relocated. Citizens are urged not to try calling friends or family within San Francisco, as the airways must be kept as clear as possible; many electronic devices are not working properly as it is."

"That doesn't sound so hot," said Xander.

"We have reports from those who managed to escape the city of a masked...entity, whose image appeared over the city, in front of City Hall, declaring San Francisco a part of his new empire. Reports being too numerous and identical nearly to a word, authorities were not able to dismiss this so easily as mass hysteria. People are urged to get away immediately if they see anything like this, and to report it directly to authorities. As of now, only San Francisco, California seems to be affected, but all fifty-one states have been put on yellow alert."

Tarun scowled and moved as if to change the station, but Nohano caught his arm. "Leave it," he said. "I want to know what's going on and what's being done. At least some people have gotten out of San Francisco."

Tarun shrugged agreeably and started a wrestling match with Demetrius. Nohano set the radio on the bare pool table and listened.

There wasn't much to report that he hadn't heard or seen already. The newswoman reported the sightings of the strange armor-soldiers they'd encountered, and the strange weather that seemed to be only affecting San Francisco and the surrounding areas. "A masked hologram," said Nohano, scowling. "Amaya, is that the demon? The one in control of this damned Dynasty?"

"I think so," said Amaya unhappily. "It makes sense. He wants to control everything."

I don't believe it, said Rashida through the mind link. The military is being crushed by this Dynasty. Those things in the sky, I think they're some kind of...spirit or demon.

Nohano shuddered. "Whatever they are," he said, "They're bad news. If the military can't even fight these guys, how can we?" He felt overwhelmed by the massive power of the attacking Dynasty. They'd cleared an entire city in only a few hours.

'They have technology,' said Demetrius mentally. 'Technology does not work well with this Dynasty. But we have magic. We can fight them because we use the same weapons as they do.'

Somehow, Nohano wasn't all too reassured. "Look. We should get a few hours' sleep. We need to be at our best tomorrow. I have the feeling we're gonna need all the energy we can get."

Despite the late hour and his logic about needing the rest, Nohano had trouble falling asleep. The riot gear was not comfortable, and he was more scared than he'd ever been in his life, and not for himself. The empty streets, the wrecked buildings. Surely not everyone had managed to get away before the attacks happened. And where was everyone? In the shelters? Evacuated? Dead? Surely the Dynasty could not kidnap an entire city...could it? And what about the guys in No Quarter? Had they gotten away. Nohano laughed quietly, though there was no humor in it. 'Guess our gig at the Jolly Roger is null and void.' He didn't even know if the restaurant still stood.

When he finally slept, he dreamed of the Renaissance Faire.

The next morning, he was shaken awake by two small hands that for some reason made a clicking sound when they connected with his body. The riot gear wasn't quiet. Nohano groaned and opened his eyes, trying to make sense of Tarun's face hovering above his. "Hi," the boy said cheerfully, and Nohano wondered where hell he'd gotten the cheer.

Nohano sat, rubbing his eyes, and saw that everyone else was awake, and that they were still in the dingy little basement. "Wonderful."

Enchanting, isn't it? said Demetrius wryly, standing and stretching. These metal pajamas are no good for sleeping in.

"What is our plan for today?" asked Rashida in careful English.

Nohano sighed, feeling surly all of a sudden. Why was it up to him? Just who had decided that he was supposed to be the leader, anyway? He scowled down at the bright red of his riot gear, wondering why the armor he wore made a difference of whether or not he was supposed to lead. He didn't even know how to go about it! "Suggestions?" he finally asked with a sigh.

"It's kinda hard to know where to start," said Suisei. "I suppose we need to track down the demon—Talpa, right?"

"Arago, in Japanese," said Amaya.

"Right. Either way, he's behind all this."

"You can bet the bastard won't just be lounging around the streets," said Xan disgustedly. "He'll send his peons after us first. Like those soldiers we saw marching the streets."

Nohano shuddered, trying to imagine how the citizens must have felt, seeing the frightening specters in grim formation, destroying anything they saw. "Definitely gotta get rid of those," he said. "They're not even creatures, or people. They're not even zombies, for hell's sake!"

Animated armor, said Demetrius.

"Sure wish we could find somethin' for brekky," said Killian sleepily, making several of the others blink at him.

"What's a brekky?" asked Suisei.

Killian blushed a little, but Nohano managed to grin. He'd heard the phrase before. "Break_fast_, if you insist on being picky," said Killian with a short laugh. "It's an Aussie thing." Rashida said the she, also, needed something to eat.

"We'll see what we come across. For now let's just...get an assessment on how bad things are up there."

The answer that was: bad.

The eight bedraggled youths extracted themselves from their ruined shelter, and Tarun grabbed the radio to take with them, just in case. It was always good to know what was happening elsewhere, and how much those outside the city knew. They gazed on the ruined street, now a mess of concrete chunks and broken glass, and other various bits of debris from the half-collapsed buildings.

"How?" Amaya asked, scowling darkly. "Their magic did this? Their weapons? The warlords?"

"Probably a combination of all three," said Nohano, looking up into the stormy skies. The rain had stopped, but the threatening clouds remained. As he watched, a streak of lightning illuminated the sickly cloud cover. "I don't see those spirit things."

"We should start searching for survivors," said Killian.

Nohano nearly smacked himself in the forehead. Why the hell hadn't he thought of that? Of course they should look for people that might need help! "That's a good idea," he said. "All right. Um, Demetrius. You and Rashida be ready to lift crap if we need to free anyone." Demetrius was the strongest of all of them, and Rashida's burly strength nearly matched his.

Got ya.

"Killian, you know some first aid, right? You'll have to be ready to help tend people. Gods, if only one of us could heal with these powers."

Amaya frowned, cocking her head. "I think we might be able to," she said. "If I remember the legend, they say one of the armors have healing powers. At least one. I don't know which." She looked to Suisei. "Your virtue is "life". It may be you."

"I can try it," said Suisei.

"But it might be Torrent, too. Waters are healing."

"Guess we'll find out," said Killian.

Nohano took a big breath. "Okay. Be ready to armor up, and everyone keep a watch for ambush. Those cowardly wretches aren't above sneak-attacking us."

Nohano felt a lot better now that they had an actual goal; to seek out and help people that might be hurt or trapped. He led the group in patrolling the streets, half on one side and half them on the others, listening and calling for anyone who might be nearby.

It's odd, said Suisei through the mind link. I can sense people nearby. Us only, for now. But...it may be that if we meet someone else I will be able to sense them too.

Try, urged Nohano from across the street. He looked over to see Tarun climbing on a fallen I-beam, and peering down into a half-exposed cellar. To him, Nohano directed, Don't fall on your head there, kid. Might do more damage to the building.

Tarun turned to give him an indignant look across the street, then filled his mind with the weirdest sense of giving him a raspberry, though through mind speech. Nohano laughed, glad of the amusement.

After about an hour, Nohano was starting to get discouraged. Everyone seemed to be gone! They'd not even found any bodies, yet. _Had_ everyone gotten away? Were the young Ronin the only ones stupid enough not to flee? 'For that matter I doubt we _could_ flee. They have everything blocked off, and if the Dynasty found we were trying to leave, they might follow.' The last thing they needed was to encourage the Dynasty to spread elsewhere.

After several blocks' worth of searching, the Ronin did find several crashed choppers from the military assaults the night before, but no one in them lived. They saw the first bodies in those vehicles, most of them charred by the fires and explosions. Tarun, normally cheerful and optimistic, burst into tears. Suisei held him, and Nohano took a step back, feeling faint. His hands balled into fists as he gazed at the body. 'You can't even tell what he looked like,' he thought furiously. 'Or even if it's a he.'

"Come on, mate," said Killian softly. Nohano turned to see Killian had cried, also.

"Right." Nohano reluctantly left the wreck, feeling it was somehow wrong to just leave them there. But what else could they do? The chopper pilots weren't in danger any more. "Just wait 'til I see those miserable bastards!" he growled as he turned away, his teeth clenched.

"I think I can oblige, young Wildfire."

The voice did not belong to any of them, and Nohano didn't know about anyone else, but he was convinced his heart had jumped out through his throat. He turned around, not too surprised to see the warlord with the wolf armor, the one he'd seen at the faire. Flanking him were two others; the pink-clad bastard who'd first spotted Killian and Nohano, and the snake-man in his green armor and serpent mask.

"Just who the hell _are_ you?" Nohano demanded, his eyes wide in dismay. As much as he'd wanted to pound them, to be confronted so suddenly was threatening panic in his mind. 'Damn it you're a warrior! You need to deal with this! Be Wildfire!'

The pink-clad one laughed, his voice muffled and distorted behind the facemask, which covered his mouth. "True, we've not yet introduced ourselves. How rude of us." His mock manners grated on Nohano, and he narrowed his eyes. "I am Dais, the Warlord of Illusion!"

"Nice pink pajamas," snickered Xan, earning a seething glare from Dais.

Keep an eye out behind us! Nohano sent suddenly through the mind link. If these three had managed to creep up on them unawares, others might do the same, and the last thing they needed was to be surrounded!

"I am Sekhmet," said the snake man, his voice deep and rough. "Warlord of Venom. I look forward to using my poisons on you brats!"

I'll pass, thanks, said Suisei through the mind link. Nohano could feel the others' presence there as well, all of them scared and furious both.

"And I," said the wolfish creature," am Kale, Warlord of Corruption and Darkness."

That's him! came Tarun's furious mental voice. That's the dark one that I don't like!

"Why are you here?" asked Rashida in her own language, though her thought transmitted clearly through the mind link. Nohano watched the warlord carefully, trying to judge whether not he had understood. Obviously he had, because all three of them began to laugh, a half-sane sound that chilled Nohano to the bone.

"We are here to take over this mortal world for our master, Talpa," said Sekhmet. "And, of course, to wipe you out. The master is quite irritated with your meager interference thus far!"

"Ha!" challenged Nohano. "If he's so pissed at us, why doesn't get his lousy hide out here and confront us himself!"

He had obviously struck a nerve. Sekhmet's eyes narrowed dangerously, looking even more unnatural, and he began drawing his katana.

"Shit," Nohano uttered, and gave the mental order to armor up. They shoulda done that to begin with! He called out for his Wildfire armor, watching the warlords draw their own weapons as well, and Nohano's fear began to wash away in the blaze of flame that went through his mind. He didn't think it was the armor, either. It was his own anger, the adrenaline. It was like that when he performed, too. He was scared, shaky, before he got on stage, but once the time came, the fear dropped, and he was ready.

"So, you have discovered the secrets of your armor," chuckled Kale, amused as if watching a child master riding a bike for the first time. Nohano scowled in irritation. The least these smug bastards could do was to take them seriously!

"We have!" declared Demetrius in English, seemingly not offended.

"Perhaps, then," said Dais maliciously, "you whelps would care to show what you've learned!"

Nohano's heart leapt as the man took the spider-like fan of scythes from his back, and Nohano grabbed back for his katana, backing up a step. Kale drew his longsword, almost identical to the one Rashida carried, and then everything seemed to happen at once.

Kale let out a fierce battle cry and leapt into their midst. Everyone flinched backwards, and Nohano cursed as all of a sudden, all three of the bastards had leapt into the middle of them. Kale lunged for Nohano, who brought his katana up to block the over-handed blow, dodging to the side and bringing his blades sharply down, trying to disarm him. No such luck; Nohano had the clear intuition that he was badly outmatched.

He heard a scream from one of the others, turning his head for a fraction of a second, then cried out himself as Kale's sword struck him alongside his helmet, numbing his ear and the side of his face, and knocking him aside. Nohano snarled and spun back around, this time meeting Kale's sword thrust with blades crossed. "Damn you, you miserable freak!" Nohano hissed, ducking down and jumping away from the wolf-man. It was frightening, how his anger translated to fire in his mind, but it was empowering, as well. He felt a surge of strength as Kale leapt at him again, this time soaring straight above Nohano's head and landing lightly behind him. Nohano spun—instinct--and swung both katana at Kale's side. Caught by surprise, Kale yelled and staggered back.

"I thought you said we were pathetic!" sneered Nohano. "That must make you completely useless!"

"Wretch," Kale hissed, all trace of smugness gone. "It was a lucky hit you scored. It won't happen again!" Kale raised his sword, and Nohano leapt back, expecting another lunge, but Kale didn't even attack. He shouted out, "Black Lightning Slash!"

Nohano was confused for only a second, as the air around them grew dark, and purplish lightning sparked from Kale's sword. Nohano had seen something similar from Rashida's blade when they had practiced their weapon-power attacks, but hers had been bright, hopeful. The energy spinning off of Kale's sword was dark and powerful.

And then it hit; pain like he'd never felt before, searing through his armor and into his body. Nohano screamed, staggering backwards to sprawl on the asphalt, gripping his katana more by instinct than by a conscious desire to keep hold of them. Unnatural cold pierced through his entire being, dizzying amid the heavy, oppressive air of early autumn. He heard Kale laugh, too close to him, and Nohano rolled on the ground, only barely avoiding the sword, hearing it crack the asphalt, leaving a deeply scored line.

He lurched to his feet, his vision clearing, looking into Kale's face. The warlord looked gleeful, pleased by the pain and fear his attack had caused. "Enjoy that?" he asked.

"Oh, right," gasped Nohano. "It was lovely, you cowardly jerk!" He ducked behind an overturned garbage truck as Kale called his lightning attack once more, this time letting the truck take the brunt of the attack.

The lightning sizzled through, igniting the gas tank, sending the truck up in flames. Though Nohano at first recoiled, a natural reaction, a moment later he laughed and leapt on top of the burning truck, gathering what energy he could. The fire dimmed quickly, then burned out entirely before Nohano leapt down, watching Kale's furious expression. "We're not so easy a target are we, freak?"

"Insolent whelp," hissed Kale. "You honestly think you half-trained brats can stand against the Dynasty? Look. Look at your pathetic group against Master Talpa's warlords!"

Knowing he shouldn't let himself be baited, but not able to help himself, Nohano turned to look, the sounds of their battle only now making it past the red haze in his mind. Even as he watched, little Tarun only just sprinted away from a vicious swipe of the sword-chain whip he'd seen Sekhmet using on a little girl back at the Irwindale faire. He watched Demetrius go down from a laser-pistol shot from behind, only staggering up in time to avoid a fatal blow. Killian and Suisei were knocked down by the charge of a burly warlord in bear-like armor.

Terror for his friends and rage at the warlords warred in Nohano's mind, and he turned to look back at Kale, standing in the street, what little of his face that was visible showing a self-satisfied smirk. "See? We could easily kill you."

"So why haven't you?" Nohano asked, his voice shaking, wanting nothing more then than to rip this smug bastard's throat out.

Kale laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "Orders, brat. We're to bring you to Talpa. Your fear and suffering will power him, as does the fear and suffering of the people in this city."

"No," Nohano whispered, slowly shaking his head.

"Oh, yes, there were some who made it out, and yet others who hide. But most of them, well, let's just say our master is paying them close attention. Unfortunately he cannot bring you brats across the barrier between the dimensions. Your armor protects you from that."

'Thank God,' Nohano thought.

"Of course some mortals never made to Talpa's palace, and lie dead in the street. Much like your little singing companion a few weeks ago, hmm?"

Nohano felt cold as Kale mentioned Robert's death with such casualness, even amusement! Without warning, he lunged at the man, bringing the katana back for a mighty blow at Kale's chest. Kale's maddeningly laugh echoed in Nohano's mind as he leapt from the lunge and brought his longsword round to strike Nohano in the back.

Nohano could barely think. All he could do was to go after Kale with everything he had, blocking out all of the others. He felt the sting of Kale's blade against his body, even through the armor. He felt the crippling cold the warlord induced with his mystical attack, and the searing pain of the electric-like power. But even more, he felt the fire, the fire of both his armor and his rage. Grief for Robert and the dozens of others that must have been killed in the attack only gave his anger power. Kale's mocking laughter rang in his ears.

Nohano!

The voice was Killian's, breaking through Nohano's rage. He felt a moment of panic, from Killian he realized, not his own. Nohano, we've got to retreat! We're losing here!

Nohano could not answer then, caught by a vicious blow in the side, a blow that felt like a boulder had struck him, knocking him several meters away to crash against a half-ruined skyscraper. His head throbbed suddenly, his body aching, as he fell to the street, only able to stand again with great effort, and was astonished to see he'd left a cracked dent in the asphalt. He looked up to catch sight of the burly warlord in bear armor, leering brutishly at him from beneath a masked helmet, and realized he'd been the one to hit him. "Name's Shuang," the man chortled. "Warlord of Destruction."

He stood next to Kale, and Nohano viewed them with no small degree of fear, his teeth clenched against the sudden, horrible ache in every bone in his body.

A third warlord joined them, but did not attack: Sekhmet, the snake-like warrior. "They are weakened," said Sekhmet, grinning eagerly. "Shall we signal Lord Talpa?"

"Yes," said Kale. "Signal him."

Sekhmet's grin widened, and he stepped back, shouting up to the skies in Japanese. "Master Talpa! We are ready, now!"

'Ready?' Nohano thought frantically. 'Ready for what?'

A burst of reddish-orange lightning arced overhead, and before he could do anything, Nohano found himself surrounded by the unwholesome energy, forgetting everything in a moment of pain and terror. And then there was nothing.


	24. Divide and Conquer

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 24: Divide and Conquer**

Demetrius had never fought a battle like this in his life. He had fought at the faire all those weeks ago, and he had sparred in practice, but this was unlike any of it. He had no time to think, reduced only to split-second reactions and instinctive dodged and attacks. The hours and days of training had paid off, keeping him alive, but he could tell they were seriously outmatched.

He caught sight of the burly man in bear armor, the one he'd gone after at the faire. But there were several more, including the three that had first confronted them, who seemed to be the ones in charge. And then, as Nohano battled the one called Kale, the rest of these warlords had swarmed them, attacking from out of nowhere, it seemed. Demetrius was thrown back by a powerful blow with a pair of nunchaku from the one called Dais, and a laser blast from behind that thankfully his armor had mostly absorbed. Still, it had hurt him, and he'd only just avoided being struck in the head by the next shot.

And then all had stopped, for only a moment, as the warlords seemed to fall back at some unspoken command. Demetrius looked around to the group, all of whom were winded and injured, and realized with sudden horror that they couldn't win. They would die there, on the streets.

And then something happened he couldn't understand. Lightning from above struck him, not harming him in any way he could perceive, but filling him with a taint so profound that he felt sick. And then there was nothing.

It was not like going to sleep. Demetrius had never been unconscious before, and could not really explain what it felt like...but he didn't really feel _anything_.

His next awareness was light, light that was so strange he was sure he'd never seen anything like it before. He opened his eyes fully and squinted, certain, absolutely certain that he was hallucinating. It was the earth he was seeing, the earth from an impossible, dizzying height. In fact, the earth below him looked like a map, where he could actually see the shape of the continent below him. 'Africa,' he thought giddily, trying to turn around to get a better look, but found it was impossible to do. 'There's Africa.'

'Oh my gods,' he thought frantically. 'My gods, I'm in space.'

It was insane. It was impossible, and the very thought made him feel like he'd lost his mind. How could he possibly be in space? He should be dead, or imploding, or something! He tried to move again, a little panicked when he could not do it. He could move his limbs, but he didn't go anywhere, only floated serenely in the air—and it wasn't even air! There was nothing!

'They can't possibly know where I am,' he thought frantically. How? How had he gotten to this impossible place?

Then he remembered the orange lightning, the energy that had sizzled through him, and the sudden lack of consciousness. 'Talpa,' he thought, slowly clenching his fist. He must have been responsible for this. But why? Why, if he had such power, could he not have simply killed them?

"Maybe he can't," said Demetrius aloud, unnerved that he could not hear his own voice. "Maybe our armor prevents him simply killing us with a spell." As his panic calmed, he noticed a strange sort of mask covering his face—not completely, but his eyes were covered by a clear visor, and the bottom half of his face with metal that seemed to be attached to his helmet. There was still a place where air should be able to escape, but somehow it wasn't.

'All right, stay calm,' he thought, closing his eyes to shut out the frightening, black view of the stars and the impossible girth of the earth below him. 'Stay calm. And think of something.'

But as he opened his eyes and gazed at the endless vista of blackness, he wondered what he could possibly think of to do.

It seemed an age before it happened. Demetrius drifted helplessly in the vacuum that surrounded Earth's atmosphere, gazing desperately down at the soil and stone he took so much comfort from. How he longed for the security of warm earth around him, giving him energy and strength. He'd never realized just how closely he was connected to the earth until that connection had been so suddenly broken. Floating, with no gravity to tie him to the land, it felt unreal.

The light surprised him at first. What could be making a light so brilliant out here in the blackness of space? Not a meteor, surely, for most of them were no bigger than pebbles, and would not glow in space, at any rate. They only glowed on entering the atmosphere, and Demetrius knew he was far beyond that. A comet? Surely not, they couldn't possibly travel so fast, could they?

The boy drifted around so that he was able to face the source of the light, realizing with horror that it was headed straight at him. A great ball of seething energy, like a miniature sun, surrounded by the hateful spirit-things they'd seen that day hovering in the sky and striking down the military helicopters. Demetrius had time only to scream, a sound that was lost in the emptiness, before the thing hit.

Demetrius could not have described it. There was no pain, not yet, only a surge of light too bright to stand, and so much energy that he could scarcely stand it. He closed his eyes to the light, but it penetrated his light skin, seeming to sear his eyes with its intensity. Then things went dark as awareness slipped away.

---

Pressure. That was the first thing that Suisei was aware of when consciousness began to return to him. Pressure, and a deep sort of cold that he couldn't explain. When he moved, his entire body sort of drifted, as if floating in the water.

Water?

Suisei opened his eyes, blinking in sudden alarm at the view around him; seaweed and coral, startled fish and water...water everywhere. Suisei had no fear of water like his friend Nohano had, but he did not entirely love it, either. A spirit of air and wind, Suisei was badly intimidated by being, so far as he could see, at the bottom of the ocean!

As the youth's brain woke a little more fully, he noticed that he _was_ breathing, water or no, and that he was still in his full armor. In fact, a strange mask had closed over his face, the same mask that always closed over when he called his armor—but it usually retracted back into the helmet! And now, it seemed to be shielding Suisei from suffocation.

He suddenly realized that he was alone, and felt a moment's anxiety for Tarun. 'Oh, kid, I hope you're better off than I am at the moment.' No one within mental range, either, it seemed as he looked around.

"What the hell," he finally muttered, frowning at the oddity of being able to speak underwater and the fact that he was there at all. Calmed from his initial panic, Suisei stood, slowly, on the sea bottom. The weight of his armor anchoring him so that he was able to walk (though quite slowly), Suisei began to explore the area. As it was clear his armor would shield him, he was no longer fearful, but he wanted a way out as soon as possible. Light shone from a nearby phosphorescent coral reef, but otherwise it was quite dark, telling Suisei that he was very far down.

The immediate area had little in it but the various sea life, and the ground did not seem to be rising towards a shore. Suisei realized that he was going to have to try and swim up, to find the surface, wherever it might be. He hoped he wasn't hundreds of miles from shore, else he might not make it back.

"A little nervous, Ronin of Strata?"

The voice, so unlikely down in the alien environment, startled Suisei badly. He spun around, or, rather, tried to spin around. He twisted in the water, losing his balance and floating towards the seabed. He had plenty time to catch himself and stand up, gaping at the owner of the voice. "Sekhmet!" he exclaimed, remembering the name of the viper warlord. "How?"

Sekhmet laughed, a laugh of genuine amusement, that sent a chill up Suisei's back. "Didn't you know, Ronin? The water is my territory. I am at home here, as much as on land."

'That's not good,' Suisei thought warily, taking a slow step backwards. 'Because I'm not.' He didn't want to spend time fighting this bastard, especially since he didn't know how much power his armor used to keep him from inhaling water. But he knew that as soon as he turned around to flee, the coward would attack him from behind! Besides, he had a sudden desire to kick this creep's butt. "So you're a water-slug," said Suisei in insult, reaching behind him for his longbow. A surge of adrenaline was wiping out his fear, and he found he was even enjoying the encounter. He had always sought out excitement, and couldn't deny that even this dire situation attracted him.

Sekhmet hissed, sounding more like a snake than ever, and drew two of his katana. "Your words are bold," he hissed, facing Suisei. "But when I bring you back to my master, Talpa, when he has you and your friends suffering in his dungeons, I fear you won't be so bold."

"Bring it on, you legless lizard," said Suisei disgustedly, bringing the longbow to bear in front of him, grabbing an energy arrow from the quiver on his back. The water slowed his actions, but his arrows glowed faintly as always.

Sekhmet's unnatural eyes widened behind the snake mask, and he lunged at Suisei, startling the Ronin with his speed. Suisei let loose his arrow, driving Sekhmet and himself both back several meters, and wondered in astonishment how the bastard could move so quickly in the water!

"The water is my territory," he had said. It must be like Killian's armor, giving him power! Killian could move quickly in the water, too!

He had just enough time to draw a second arrow and let it fly, cursing mildly as Sekhmet dodged it, soaring up into the water away from the shock of the arrow. Suisei was knocked backwards once more from the force of the arrow, and realized suddenly he could use this to escape!

Ignoring the angry snake warlord for a moment, Suisei jumped up into the water and aimed his longbow downward, laughing as he was driven upwards, towards what must be the surface.

A shadow made him dodge aside, narrowing avoiding being grappled by Sekhmet, who'd dove down like a hawk sighting its prey. He tried to nock another arrow, but Sekhmet was too quick, grabbing Suisei around the waist and tackling him back down towards the bottom. Suisei snarled, grabbing onto Sekhmet's mask, trying to pry it from the snake lord's face. Sekhmet let go of Suisei with one hand to protect his mask, allowing Suisei to nearly free himself. "Oh, no you don't," Sekhmet hissed, grabbing Suisei around the throat, his hand snaking around his armor and beneath the mask.

Suisei gagged and stopped trying to free himself, instead grabbing Sekhmet's gauntlet with both hands and prying the fingers from his throat. He vaguely realized he'd let his longbow drop, but couldn't do anything to retrieve it. A red haze began to appear around the pair, that Suisei was not sure was real or a hallucination. But the pain that hit him a moment later was no hallucination. He cried out in hurt surprise and wrenched himself away from Sekhmet's grasp, a burning, deep pain seeping in like the water itself.

Sekhmet laughed unpleasantly as Suisei awkwardly hit the sand, a groan escaping his lips, unable at first to understand where the haze and the pain were coming from. Was it his armor? Was it malfunctioning somehow? Wondering if Sekhmet somehow had a way of attacking him without using his weapon, Suisei grabbed his bow from where it had hit and grabbed another of his arrows.

"You like my poison, Ronin?" asked Sekhmet, chuckling as he landed next to Suisei. "One of my favorite ones—the pain will increase by the minute, and it's all the more potent in the water! I love the agonizing ones. They're so much more interesting."

Suisei gaped at Sekhmet in disbelief, realizing the haze was coming off the warlord's very armor! "Worse _in_ the water?" he gasped, stumbling as a stab of pain sank into the muscles of his legs.

"That's right." The miserable bastard sounded downright gleeful! "Incapacitating, eventually, though it does take a little time. Oh...just how long does the power in your armor last? Mine will last all week if I want it to, powered by water as it is. You're Strata? That's too bad."

Panic was beginning to resurface in Suisei's mind as the pain seemed to intensify. 'It's like nerve gas,' he thought, appalled. Not that he had ever experienced nerve gas, but he'd read of it, and it seemed like it would be similar. He looked hazily at Sekhmet, who seemed to be content to stand there and let his poison do his job for him, then down to the arrow he'd nocked. 'I hope this works,' he thought feverishly, getting out of the water now his top priority. "Arrow Shock Wave!" he cried, letting the arrow fly on the last word.

Sekhmet laughed and dodged easily aside, but Suisei hadn't even been aiming at him. A great surge of energy drove Suisei backwards, up through the water as if he had strapped a jet pack to his back. He caught sight of Sekhmet's startled expression before nocking another arrow and letting it fly as well. The warlord was chasing him now, obviously realizing what Suisei was trying to do, dodging the arrow the Ronin was now aiming at him. 'If he catches me again, I'm done,' he thought frantically. 'I can't let that happen! His only hope was that they were fairly close to land, for Sekhmet to have been able to get to him so quickly. If not, he didn't want to think of what would happen.

---

Tarun did not like the dark, and when he woke to nothing but blackness and silence, he was not entirely thrilled. He remembered the lightning hitting, and the frightening but interesting sensation of being dematerialized by it. That hadn't been so bad. It had hurt, but not for long. But this, this wasn't anything like Tarun was used to seeing.

Shaken, the boy stood up and peered around, trying frantically to spot even a bit of light, but all around him was blackness. "Suisei?" he called, his voice echoing around him. "Yuck," he added in a quieter voice, shivering at the echo. "That wasn't right."

He began feeling around him, crouching and running his hands across the ground he stood on. He thought it might be dirt, but with his gauntlets on, he wasn't sure, and he wasn't about to ditch the armor. He kept on feeling the ground until his hand collided with something solid. "Hey!" he exclaimed, grinning, as he stood up. He'd been beginning to wonder if there was anything here but him! He ran his hands along the object, frowning at what seemed to be a big box of stone, scraping against his gauntlets. He tapped it, and it made an echo-y clanking sound. He blinked, remembering that several of his sling projectiles exploded in light energy, and grabbed eagerly for the weapon. Why hadn't he thought of that before?

He realized a moment later that he didn't really need the sling; all he needed was to throw the little ball to the floor and see what its lights revealed. The child stood back and hurled the ammunition, squinting his eyes as the entire room flared, throwing everything into sharp relief for just a second.

But a second was all Tarun needed. He screamed, stumbling back from a stone tomb, shrinking back from the ancient bodies stacked into alcoves in the wall. The light flared out, leaving Tarun standing in the middle of the crypt, shaking. The dark had been bad enough, but the death—everywhere! And he'd not seen an exit.

Tarun felt tears prickle at his eyes and wiped them angrily away, taking a big breath and holding it. 'I can do this,' he said to himself. 'I gotta, I'm a Ronin Warrior! Ronin Warriors aren't scared of skeletons. They're not scared of the dark, either!' Though in truth he had only been startled by the skeletons, and his fear of the dark was mild, but still.

It helped, a little bit. Trying very hard to be brave, Tarun edged to the nearest wall and began feeling around on it, trying very hard to ignore the old, old smell of decay and death that hung about the tomb. He traveled the whole circumference of the room, searching for an opening that could be a door, but all that he found were the recesses the bodies lay in. Was there an exit at all? There had to be, else how could he have gotten in? He sat on the floor when he was finished, fighting tears, leaning against the stone tomb in the center of the room.

Maybe the door was through the tomb! Cheered immediately at the idea, Tarun stood again and put his hands on the tomb, pushing against the top with all of his strength. The boy strained until he was out of breath, but the top did not budge, and Tarun wondered if it even had a lid, or if he just wasn't strong enough.

"I wish I had muscles like Demetrius," he uttered resentfully, glaring at stubborn tomb in front of him. "I want out of this stupid thing!"

A sudden instinct made Tarun duck down, taking cover behind the stone, and screeched in shock at a sudden clang against the stone where he'd just been standing. Someone cursed in a different language. "Hey" Tarun cried, scrambling to his feet, grabbing his sling and an ammunition ball in his hands. "Who's there?"

The voice was harsh and mocking, even as it spoke as casually as if they were meeting on the street. "Well, as my initial attack doesn't seem to have worked, I might as well tell you. I am Dais. You may remember me from our last little meeting."

_That_ one! The spidery one who'd worn pink armor during the attack back in San Francisco! "I remember you!" said Tarun furiously, taking a step back. "And you'd better leave me alone!" He drew out another sling ammo from his pouch and flung it towards the voice, jumping back as the energy flared, blasting apart a section of the wall and the half-rotted bones that rested there. But it hadn't hit Dais; he had dodged it, and Tarun dashed away from Dais's furious lunge.

The tomb was dark again, and fear crept back into Tarun's mind as it was silent once more. He stood there, his eyes wide, straining to catch the smallest noise from the warlord. He took another ammo from his pouch and flung it on the floor, catching sight of Dais's silhouette, upside down, descending from the high ceiling like a gigantic, malignant spider. Tarun ran again, nearly colliding with the opposite wall, reaching frantically for another ammo ball, loading his sling and flinging the ball as hard as he could in front of him. A cry of pain from Dais told him he'd hit his mark, but the child's elation only lasted a second. Unless he could knock the warlord out, he'd eventually get caught, or dead! There was no way out, and his speed was nearly useless here!

"You'll pay for that, child!" snarled Dais suddenly. "Web of Deception!"

Tarun didn't know the attack, but recognized that is _was_ an attack, and a spike of fear went though the boy. He stumbled in the dark, not knowing where Dais was, not knowing how close Dais's attack was, not knowing where he could take cover.

He screeched, startled, as something hit the wall right above him, and he sprinted from it, feeling soft, sinister tickles of something brush his cheek. He swiped furiously at whatever it was, putting on a burst of speed, and breaking free of the fine strands. He stumbled in the dark, sprawling on the dirt floor, and felt something encircle his ankle; not the strands of web, but Dais's hand!

"Let go!" Tarun shrieked, spinning around on the ground as Dais's other hand grabbed his wrist. With his free hand, Tarun punched the man as hard as he could, striking only his armor. Dais laughed, and lunged forward, using his weight to pin the boy down.

"I will enjoy punishing you, brat," said Dais viciously, grabbing Tarun's flailing arm and pinning it down, too. "Hold still you worthless whelp!"

But Tarun fought with all his strength, squirming out from under Dais's weight, kicking furiously at the dark warlord. He heard a yelp from Dais as Tarun's fingers sought his eyes. The warlord growled like an animal and grabbed Tarun's arm, wrenching it behind the boy and pinning him face first.

Tarun yowled, both in pain and in protest, still fighting, but nearly helpless in his position. Dais did not laugh now, only held Tarun in place for several moments, catching his breath. "I never knew a child could fight like you," he uttered, and though the rage in the warlord's voice scared Tarun, he was also flattered.

"Let me go."

"Not a chance, whelp," said Dais, his tone one of surprised amusement. "You lie helpless beneath my knee, and still you demand to be freed? You have nerve boy, if not intelligence." He laughed again, a sound Tarun was growing to hate.

But he didn't have the chance to reply to the insult; a flash of orange, like the one that had brought him here, engulfed them both. This time Tarun felt the gut-wrenching sensation of being mystically discorporated and transported who knew how far. By the time they landed again on solid ground, Tarun was dizzy and disoriented. He caught a brief glimpse of an enormous door in front of them, and fought briefly to free himself, but the same thin strands of web shot out from Dais's sheathed weapon and wrapped around Tarun, binding him tight. He yowled in protest as Dais carried him through the gate and into a world that Tarun had never seen before.

He didn't get the chance to take in the sights. There was another dizzying jolt of teleportation, this time somewhere inside. The webs around him dissipated, and when Dais flung him to the floor, the boy sprawled ingloriously on the polished wood.

Shaking his head, Tarun put his hands on the floor to push himself up, but was distracted for a moment by a shiny pair of metal boots which stopped centimeters from his nose. He looked up, his eyes widening in fear, his jaw dropping. The man who stood before him was tall, taller than Suisei even, clad in gray armor from head to foot. Like the warlords, he wore a mask, a hideous, blood-red face of metal with fangs and dark eye sockets.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Vileness flowed off the man like steam, an evil so deep that even Tarun, with his imagination, could scarcely imagine it. The boy let a cry of startled revulsion and scrambled to his feet, backing up until someone grabbed his arms from behind. He looked, quickly, having forgotten Dais entirely for just a minute, and noticed distractedly that Dais's helmet was off. He had long, white hair and a patch across one eye. Tarun got a brief glimpse of a room with wooden floors and walls, and creepy blue candles. As he turned back to gape at the specter in the fanged mask, he saw that the back wall was covered in what looked like some kind of fancy television screen.

"So." The voice from the masked one was low and raspy, rumbling through the room and in Tarun's gut. It was like a big truck rumbling by. "Our first Ronin guest in nearly one hundred years. You should be honored, boy."

Staring at him in horror, realizing this was the demon Talpa that the others had spoken of, Tarun took a small step back, grabbing Dais's hand and trying to pry it off of him. Dais hissed and shook the boy violently, grabbing his wrist. "You think I'll permit you to run now, in the presence of my master?"

"What's your name, boy?" asked Talpa.

Tarun turned furiously, glaring at the demon as fiercely as he could manage while half-dangling by the wrist from Dais's clenched fist. "Tarun Narayan," he said proudly, trying to ignore the tremor in his voice.

"I see." Talpa gazed at him a moment—at least he thought he gazed at him—then turned his blank mask to Dais. "Release the child's arm."

Dais blinked, and Tarun frowned in puzzlement. Were they going to let him go?

"But my lord, his speed--"

"Release him."

Clearly thinking it a folly, Dais flung Tarun's arm away with a look of disgust, and the boy wasted no time. He shot like a bullet across the chamber, away from Talpa's horrid mask, towards the door he saw at the end of the room. But he never got there.

Something hit him from behind, something that knocked him asprawl on the floor once more, searing him more horribly than Kale's lightning attack had done. Tarun couldn't even scream. When the burning stopped, he tried once to get to his feet, and was hit with it again, and this time he did scream. When the attack stopped, he stayed where he was, curled in a ball with his arms over his head. He gave a muffled cry from between clenched teeth when Dais grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet, marching him back to where Talpa stood and forcing him onto his knees.

Shaking, Tarun shoved up the visor of his helmet, looking at Talpa with renewed horror. He'd never met anything that was faster than him when he was armored up, nor anything that could inflict that kind of pain and soul-deep taint.

"Remember this, child," said Talpa, his voice quiet but no less terrifying. "You stand within my palace, within a realm of sheer evil, which I control. Your powers are nothing to me here." Tarun had no way to know if this was a true statement or not, but after that he certainly was willing to believe it. Satisfied, Talpa turned to Dais, bowing his head for a moment. "Well done, Dais. Return to assist the others if it is necessary."

Tarun glanced back to catch Dais's pleased smile, his respectful bow, and his gracious, "Thank you, my lord." And then he was gone. Tarun felt a weird sort of fear at being left alone with Talpa. Dais wasn't exactly his best friend, but far more familiar! And Talpa was horrifyingly powerful.

Somehow, Tarun managed to speak, getting shakily to his feet but not trying to escape the room again. "Wh-what are you?"

Talpa chuckled, turning and slowly pacing the room. Tarun started at the sudden movement, and only barely kept from running. "A demon, child."

A little surprised to have gotten an answer, though somewhat irritated to get one he already knew, Tarun asked another question. "Why'd you attack us?"

Talpa turned to face him, and although no emotion showed on the mask, Tarun got the sickening feeling he was being leered at. "You stand in my way, little Ronin. All of you. Surely you know the legends. I have existed for a thousand years. I will dominate this earth and its lands—it is my right!"

Being called a little Ronin did not insult Tarun; that's what he was, after all. But the part about taking over the world...Tarun began to shiver. "Are you going to kill me?" he made himself ask, his voice somewhat higher than normal, and he too afraid of the answer to care much.

Talpa began to laugh then, a sound that made Tarun want to whimper and run as fast as he could. "Not at all, little Ronin of Daybreak. Yes, I know your armor's affiliation. In fact your armor is what I am most interested in. The original Ronin armor belonged once to me, and I will take them back, but yours has been newly made. I am _very_ interested in its powers. Surrender it to me and save yourself a great deal of suffering, child!"

A snippet of memory came to Tarun then, him sitting still for once, listening to one of Amaya's stories about the legend of the armors. Of how the armors had begun as a single set of them, worn by the very demon before Tarun now, and of how an old mystic had broken it into nine sets. "Arago wants the armors," said Amaya. "With all nine of them, the five we have and the warlords' four, he will make our world and his into one. He will control everything."

Tarun looked up at Talpa, horrified. Could his own armor help Talpa do that? Could it give him other abilities? He slowly shook his head

"Very well," Talpa sneered, and turned his back on Tarun. The sickly orange flash engulfed him once more, flinging him through space, twisting his gut into a knot. He landed with a splash, spluttering in shock as he floundered for a few moments until he realized the water he'd landed in was not deep. He could sit in it without being in danger of drowning. Shaken, he stood up, looking around.

The chamber was vast, like an underground cave, with stone pillars surrounding the massive pool he found himself in. The water was a brackish, glowing yellow, smelling of chemicals and other less identifiable things. But what caught all of his attention were the strange bubbles floating around the ceiling chamber, bubbles big enough to hold a grown man. Within them floated, as if sitting with their legs crossed, the horrible spirit things the Ronin has seen in the skies. There were at least ten of them, all hovering in a circle around the boy, and as he watched in stunned fascination, they began to close in.


	25. Refuge

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 25: Refuge**

Amaya appeared on a dark street, astonished and exhilarated. She was shaken by her battle and mildly injured, but gratified all the same; she had managed to escape her attackers with a little help from Yasuo Toshitada.

She'd been flung to God knew where, ambushed by an American youth who'd addressed her as "babe". Not impressed, Amaya had fought him, the fight joined moments later by an Italian man in feline-looking armor. She'd held her own well enough, but understood that she didn't know where she was, and even if she got away from them, she'd be vulnerable.

Then the voice: "Use your armor," it had said. She recognized the voice, and was grateful for its presence, but she did not understand what it meant. Bewildered, she'd paused in her fight to ask, "How?"

Think! he urged, as Amaya distractedly dodged a spear hurled by the Italian. "Your armor is of the night! When the barrier between worlds is at its thinnest! Use your power to escape!

The impossible realization came then; she could transport. By concentrating, willing herself to be in San Francisco, she had somehow managed it. Elation burst through her mind; she had finally found out what her armor could do! She also realized that if the others had been flung to the four corners of the globe, they would have difficulty getting back. She realized she could concentrate on a person as well as a place, and thought of Xander.

The sensation was strange; a falling, bottomless swoop in her gut as if she'd fallen from a great height. There were moments of blackness, and then new awareness.

The stone beneath her feet was hot, the sun bright overhead, and two people battled several meters away on the flat expanse of rock. As Amaya adjusted her sight from night to day, she realized that the combatants were Xander and the warlord who'd introduced himself as Tai Shuang. Xander looked exhausted, his cracked helmet lying on the ground nearby, the side of his face badly burned. Shuang was weaponless, laughing as he circled the boy, clearly liking the altercation.

Anger and concern raced through Amaya as she sprinted at the combatants, calling out a challenge in Japanese to the Warlord.

Shuang stared for only a moment before turning around and sprinting, and for a moment Amaya thought he intended to flee. But he only grabbed his chain and weight weapon and attacked.

Amaya yelled in fury, dodging the deadly weight, and narrowed her eyes. "Try that again, barbarian," she hissed at Shuang, who only grinned, and obliged. Xander didn't look shocked to see Amaya, but did not seem like he cared at that moment if God himself were to appear in the middle of the fight and pull out a couple of longswords. He only dove back into the fight, as tired as he was.

The fight was close, but Amaya and Xan were the victors, driving Shuang off with a weapon that Xan had improvised seemingly by sheer instinct, a sort of spear made from a very thin energy shield. He thrust it into Shuang's mask, and was rewarded by the man's shriek of pain. And then he was gone in a flash of orange light.

Shaking, Xan watched the place he had been, then turned to Amaya, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Amaya lunged at him as his knees bent and his eyes closed; she only barely caught him and lifted him up so he would not fall to the searing rock. "I must transport again," she muttered to herself, bending awkwardly to snag Xan's helmet. Closing her eyes, Amaya concentrated once more on San Francisco.

---

Suisei was lucky. His energy was waning quickly, and Sekhmet fearsome sword-chain whip had struck him more times than he could count. Its poisons began to sink through his armor, and he was at the point of being overcome when he got in the lucky shot.

The surface was near; Suisei could feel the pressure of the waters lessening, could imagine the winds that played across the waters. His arm trembled badly as he drew back the string of his longbow yet again, his hoarse voice crying out the powerful mystic attack. "Arrow Shock Wave!"

Sekhmet did not dodge in time, and the arrow caught him full in the face, wedging in the opening of his mask. The warlord screamed, recoiling, dropping his sword whip to clutch at the arrow as its energy burst, flashing brightly in the dingy water. Suisei gaped for a moment, and then there was cool wind on his face; he had broken the surface of the water.

Giddy relief overcoming him, Suisei felt the winds brush his skin, giving his exhausted body a small surge of energy, and felt the mask retract into the helmet. Astonished, he realized he was still in San Francisco, and had simply been submerged in the nearby bay!

Suisei laughed, a bray of harsh laughter from a very sore throat, and struck out for the land, forcing his arms and legs to work just a little longer. It was fortunate that the land was close, and soon he was crawling up onto the beach.

The sky overhead was dark, and the beach deserted. Suisei gazed around as he stood, swaying on his feet, and saw the beach umbrellas and towels that had been left behind by fleeing citizens. "Or perhaps captured citizens," he murmured, taking a big breath of the life-giving air. Never had he ever been so grateful to breathe real air, to feel it blow onto his face, even if it was a little too chilly for comfort. For the moment it was the only thing he felt.

A sudden flash of light startled Suisei badly; there was no way he could fight in his condition, and he looked quickly around for cover, but there was none. He realized a moment later he didn't need it. "Amaya!" he cried in relief.

"Hai," said Amaya in answer, reverting as she often did when speaking to him to Japanese. She had Xander clutched in her arms, and Suisei could tell they'd both had their own battles. Amaya only looked tired and bruised, but Xander had a nasty burn all along one side of his face, bad enough that Suisei flinched at the sight of it. "We need to tend him," said Amaya worriedly, kneeling on the sand and laying Xander on it.

Suisei staggered over, removing his helmet and looking at Xander's face. "I know little first aid," he said, biting his lip. "How—how'd you get here?"

"I'll explain later," said Amaya, shaking her head. "Suisei—your virtue is Life. Life—do you think you might be the healer? I know that one of our armors can heal, but I don't know whose!"

"I...can try," said Suisei doubtfully, kneeling next to the unconscious boy. He noticed peripherally that Amaya had Xander's helmet in her hand, and that something had managed to crack it almost in two. He noted the bruise on the opposite side of Xander's face and winced. "He must have come across a vicious bastard," he murmured, gently touching Xan's face.

"Yes," said Amaya, quieting as Suisei closed his eyes.

Suisei knew he was nearing collapse himself, and if he did have any healing powers, he might not be able to summon them. He tried to calm his mind, put his worry for Tarun and the others out of it, and concentrating on taking the injury.

All that happened was that he got a headache, but a sudden intuition struck him as he calmed his mind, and he drew back, shaking his head. "I can't heal him," he said. "Life—my virtue is life. He's is no danger of losing his, so there's nothing I can do for him. I'd bet just about anything that Killian's the one."

Amaya looked doubtful, but said nothing. "Come on," she said, grabbing Xander once more and with difficulty hoisting him over her shoulders in a fireman's carry. Suisei would have helped, but getting himself to his feet and staying on them was taking all of his energy.

"Yes, let's find cover," said Suisei.

The two youths staggered through the streets, hiding in the shadows, and avoiding the patrols of armor-soldiers that clomped up and down the streets. Suisei wondered later why their power hadn't been sensed by any of them, or any or the warlords, or even Talpa himself; he came to the conclusion that both of them were nearing exhaustion, and Xander was actually out cold. Maybe their armor had been too weak to locate.

What Amaya found seemed to be a godsend to Suisei, though it also sent a very chilling message. What she found was a public shelter, one of several built beneath the city to protect its inhabitants from warfare, natural disasters, and terrorist attacks. It was one of the shelters Nohano said he had hoped the citizens had gotten to.

But it was empty.

Suisei and Amaya approached the gate, hanging from a half-ripped chain-link fence, and looked in dismay at the facility. The guard booths were empty, the parking lot bare. When they slipped through the entrance and located the door leading into the shelter itself, it pushed open easily, revealing only silent air. "God help them," Suisei whispered as he and Amaya crept in, greeted only by silence.

Amaya firmly shut the door, which was solid and undamaged. The thick latch made a very satisfying clunking sound, and Suisei realized this was probably the safest place they could possibly be right then without leaving the city. A steep flight of stairs descended below them, with a rubber-coated ramp next to it. 'For wheelchairs,' Suisei thought suddenly. He and Amaya used the ramp, thinking it would be a little easier to manage.

The stairs led into a large, open area, and the two Ronin were amazed that when Suisei located the light switch, the lights actually came on. 'They're on generators. Of course they are,' he said. 'These are energy-efficient lights, probably part solar, designed to work for years on end if need be.' He wondered if here, so far underground, the Dynasty's power could not affect the technology.

There were cots and chairs, and Amaya set Xan on one of the former, looking as if she wanted to collapse, too. Suisei certainly wanted to, but he didn't do it, not just yet, but he did remove his unwieldy helmet and set it on a cot. He had been a bit revived by the desolate wind outside, and he wanted to look around a little bit first.

"There should be food here," Amaya said suddenly, with a tired smile.

"And first-aid supplies."

Amaya and Suisei searched the vast room they were in, but found nothing except cots, bedding, and some basic clothing. But that was not all there was to the shelter; there were several rooms. Among the rooms they found they discovered one large restroom with several stalls, two different shower facilities, a kitchen and food-storage, and, at last, a first-aid room. Amaya, who knew more of healing than Suisei, grabbed several packages of supplies and hurried back to that first, main room.

Suisei knelt next to the cot Xan was on, helping her however he could, but his mind was elsewhere. He was not use to being afraid, but he was. The eerie, waiting silence was getting to him, and the room seemed too big. Their metal boots echoed and clanked alarmingly on the floor, though he doubted the sound could be heard through the meters of ground. He was used to living in the city, and not used to a city being this empty. The vastness of the room, no matter secure he knew the facility to be, seemed like it could hold any number of unknown threats.

"I've discovered a new talent," said Amaya once she'd cleaned and bandaged Xander as well as she could. "I can teleport."

Suisei banished his armor and had lain down on one of the cots, before he asked if she was referring to her appearing out of nowhere.

"Yes," she said. He listened intently as she told of how she'd fought two of the warlords, and how, when frantically seeking a way to escape, had heard a voice in her head. The voice of the man Suisei recognized as the one that had brought Tarun to him a year ago. "I teleported here," she said. "And I thought, well, maybe I can find the others. So I concentrated on Xan, like I'd concentrated here, and appeared to where he'd been thrown, where he battled one of their enemies. "It was the burly warlord," she explained. "Shuang. Xander was doing damned well for not having any weapon at all, and it was his shields that finally finished the warlord off. He sorta made a spear out of the shield energy and got him in the face."

"But it finished Xan, too," said Suisei anxiously.

"Yes. I think he overdid it, drained too much power from the armor." Amaya took in a big breath. "It drains our energy, too. We're linked, our armor and our...spirits? I think. It's a link, we get power from one another. That's why the armor can only choose certain people, I think. But this teleporting—it takes a lot from me. I can barely stay awake."

"Do you think you can find Tarun?" asked Suisei, almost afraid of the answer.

"Not now," said Amaya. "I don't think I could teleport a stick two centimeters right now. I must rest some, and recharge."

Suisei nodded, not happy at all, but determined not to let it show. It certainly wasn't Amaya's fault! "If they've hurt him, I'll kill them," he said grimly.

"As will I, my brother."

Suisei blinked and looked up at her words, and smiled a little. "Thank you..." he said, "...sister." That Amaya had broken her formal facade enough to call him "my brother" both touched and surprised him. It had been very easy to call her sister in return, and mean it sincerely.

Amaya smiled also, then lay back on one of the carts. "We must rest," she said. "All of us. In the morning, we will be refreshed, and better able to help our friends." Agreeing, Suisei lay down on his cot, his feet hanging over the side. The two youths were asleep before the motion sensors shut off the lights.


	26. The Nether Realm

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 26: The Nether Realm**

The dark was not a problem for Rashida. She had recently discovered the ability to make her armor and her weapon glow slightly, illuminating quite well her surroundings, and making outside lighting unnecessary.

The labyrinth, on the other hand, was definitely a problem. It was an endless network of caves, with tunnels branching in all directions, many leading into dead ends or precipices or very deep, subterranean lakes. Rough, clammy walls dripped with condensation, and the spooky, hulking forms of stalagmites and stalactites loomed everywhere. There were tiny rivulets of water flowing across the ground in well-worn ruts, and natural cubbyholes were punched into the walls at all heights. It would have been a fascinating place to explore under other circumstances.

At first, Rashida had not moved around much. When lost, it was rarely a good idea to wander, because it made it all that more difficult for searchers to locate the missing person. But then she realized that it was going to be hell for anyone to get here and find her, anyway, and if she didn't want to be stuck forever, she'd best start looking for a way out.

She's searched the caves until she found a stone hard enough to make a mark when she scraped it against the walls, so she could keep track of her course, and then had begun to explore.

At first she'd actually enjoyed herself. Keeping the glow lit took almost no energy from her and her armor at all, and the caves were interesting enough that she was kept fairly entertained for a while trying to find the ways out. The only thing that kept complete enjoyment from her is worrying about the others, and what trouble they might be in.

Logic was of no use here, where the passageways were made by nature, and had neither rhyme nor reason. The only thing she could do was keep track of where she'd been, and keep an ear out for animals who might know a way out, or the rush of air that could indicate an opening in the caverns.

After a few hours, the novelty was beginning to wear off, and Rashida began to tire; she had not eaten now for a while and it was beginning to slow her down the slightest bit. She took a break to rest a little, and to drink some of the water from an underground stream. It was a bit risky, not knowing what bacteria or minerals or the like might be in it, so she didn't drink much. But getting dehydrated would be just as bad an idea, and the water seemed to sit all right with her.

When Rashida got up again, she began to notice a disturbing thing; passages that she did not recognize were marked, and she knew she had not been the one to do it. She might have thought it was a coincidence, since she'd only been leaving a single line, but when several passageways ended up marked, she began to worry. Someone was down here with her, playing games.

Feeling more urgent now, Rashida renewed her efforts, relying now on only memory to figure out where she'd already explored. When a slight noise behind her alerted her to another's presence, she stopped, turned calmly, and called in English, "Show yourself, coward!"

The boy who stepped from the shadows was a few years younger than Rashida was. She was shocked for a moment at his youth, but when she caught the cunning intelligence in his eyes, she wasn't so surprised. Young or not, she had no doubt the kid was of use to Talpa. "Coward, is it?"

Rashida switched to Urdu to reply, "Yes; skulking around behind the enemy, resorting to trickery, is cowardly."

The boy shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by her insult. "Maybe, maybe not, Rashida of Halo. I don't care much about your opinion. I do what works."

Rashida was not entirely happy that he knew her name. "So, rude one, you know my name. What's yours?"

The boy chuckled, as if amused by her question. "Cade Taylor. Warlord of Despair."

Rashida looked the boy over, cast into sharp relief by the glow of her armor, and noted his weapon was a crossbow. She'd seen him before, first at the Renaissance Faire, and later in the streets, before the Ronin had been scattered to the four winds. "Despair, is it?" she asked, her grim face showing no emotion except perhaps disdain. "I suppose you're here to destroy me, or take me prisoner?"

"Not at all," said Cade with a grin. "That's her job."

'Her?' Cade had not pointed, nor made any other indication that there was anyone else in the cavern with them, and Rashida wondered if he was bluffing when she was suddenly grabbed from behind by an incredibly strong pair of arms. She yelled furiously, her arms pinned to her sides, kicking viciously backwards at her assailant.

"Struggle all you like!" cried the woman with a laugh, fighting to keep her grip on the burly girl. "You cannot break Haazita's grasp on you!"

'Would you like to bet on that?' Rashida thought, twisting her body around and freeing one hand from Haazita's grip. She heard the boy warlord snickering as Rashida swung her freed fist awkwardly backwards, glancing off the woman's armor and doing little good. The woman gave a mighty squeeze, that managed to hurt a little even through Rashida's armor. Whoever this damned woman was, she was strong!

Haazita laughed and staggered backwards, lurching towards the nearest cave wall. Rashida realized what she was doing only a split second before Rashida collided with the wall, pinned between it and the considerable, muscular weight of the female warlord. Winded, she gasped in a breath as the woman hauled her away from the wall and slammed her into it once more.

It took a considerable amount of provocation to flare Rashida's temper, but being smashed into the wall several times was enough to do it! Rashida let out a fierce snarl, placing the palm of her free hand against her attacker's armor and giving a mighty push, breaking Haazita's grip and shoving the woman slightly off balance. Rashida did not give the woman a chance to regain her balance, drawing her nodatchi and attacking.

Haazita was not armed, but it didn't seem to matter. She was an excellent fighter, and strong, and Rashida did not gain the advantage as they fought. Rashida thrust and cut, kicked out and slashed, but never managed to get more than a glancing blow on the woman. She was a black woman, a native of Africa, from her musical accent, and one of the tallest women Rashida had ever seen. She was sheer muscle: slim, but powerful.

Rashida had all but forgotten about the boy, Cade, until something hit her in the side, sending a shooting pain all through it. Rashida yelled and staggered back, grabbing the crossbow bolt from her armor and yanking it out with a groan, her mind spinning from the psychological attack imbued into the weapon. She ducked Haazita's flying kick, and dashed into a nearby cave, sudden anguish coming over her heart as she retreated. 'Warlord of Despair,' she thought, appalled as she felt tears sting her eyes. It didn't make any sense; there was nothing here to cause her such sadness, and yet there it was, cutting as deep as any emotional trauma. If anything, the lack of a reason made it more frightening.

Rashida heard sounds of pursuit from behind her, and looked ahead, wiping her eyes and committing to memory the layout of the little cavern. Then she banished her armor and ran. She could stay and fight, and might even win, but she knew it was wise in this case to retreat and to find someplace where she could recollect her wits and shake off the melancholy pall of the young warlord's magic.

Her feet bare, clad only in the clothing she'd worn to Tarun's Kabaddi game, Rashida ran quickly across the stone, making as little noise as possible. She glanced off a stalagmite, cursed mentally, and sprawled on the stone, ducking behind the offending stalagmite to listen for sign of her pursuers. She heard the boy saying something quietly to Haazita, and tried to predict what action they'd take.

'All right. They know I'm here somewhere, but will expect me to flee or perhaps hide in ambush. They will not have expected me to take of my armor, and leave myself so vulnerable.' It was a risk, she knew that, but there was no way she could possible go undetected with the heavy metal boots that came with her armor gear. She suddenly felt as if she was in a giant game of chess.

A faint glow shone from the other side of the cavern, and Rashida realized the two warlords had a light source with them, and turned on. Well then, that only meant she would have to stick to the shadows, and she would be able to easily locate her enemies. Moving stealthily, keeping her eye on the glow that indicated the warlords' position, Rashida began to edge towards the exit of the cave. For now, she was going to have to forget escaping the caverns; in fact getting herself more lost within its depths would hopefully throw Haazita and Cade off of her trail! Yes, she would do that. She could find her way out after she'd lost them.

Rashida moved silently, crouching behind rocks and stalagmites, working her way closer to the warlords, who seemed to be discussing tactics, and who blocked her way out. She would have to pass them to flee. 'They think I'm still hiding in here,' Rashida thought in satisfaction and she began to slide right past them, little more than a yard away, smiling in satisfaction as neither heard her silent movements.

When she was past, Rashida let out a quiet sigh of relief, and hurried away from the cave, moving quickly, but not out and out running. She had to feel her way along and still maintain some speed, which took much of her concentration, and she didn't dare armor up to use her light source. Not until she'd gotten more distance from her enemies.

What followed from that point was a long, infuriating game of cat and mouse. Cade realized more quickly than Rashida liked that he'd been fooled, giving Rashida far less time to get away. She evaded them, sometimes with her armor on, sometimes not, staying one step ahead of them only by the barest amount. They were both clever, and the boy seemed to possess a cunning far surpassing any Rashida had ever encountered. It was a battle of wits, more than muscle; Rashida admitted to herself she was enjoying the mental battle a little bit, but her physical energy was waning quickly and she worried about her friends. Who knew what trouble they might be in?

The game ended abruptly a good time later. Cade and Haazita were close behind, deep within the labyrinth, and Rashida had just about decided she would have to make her stand here, when suddenly there was no ground beneath her foot; she stepped out onto nothing, her other leg buckling, the knee wrenching horribly as she fell.

Rashida let a scream of shock as she fell, her hand flailing for a handhold, a ledge, anything she could hold on to. She heard the warlords above exclaiming, as her hand brushed against hard stone, and she gripped for a handhold.

Her hand suddenly caught a shallow depression on the rock, and she stiffened her grip at once to stop her descent. She let a low groan as one arm suddenly took the full brunt of her weight, and a burning pain went from her shoulder to the end of her hand as she slammed against the rock. Clenching her teeth, Rashida scrambled over the rock with her other hand, seeking a second handhold, finally finding one slightly above the first. She clung there for several moments, catching her breath, and listening for what was happening above.

It was pitch dark, and she was in her street clothes, her bare hands scraped and bloodied from her desperate grab. As she forced her mind into calm, she considered summoning the riot gear, but almost immediately dismissed the matter. With her arm hurt, the extra weight might prove too much for her to bear, especially as she knew she would have to either climb up or down.

"Do you think she'd died?" asked the woman, Haazita, from far above Rashida's head.

"I don't know," said Cade. "It's too far down to see. But I think I can find a way down there through one of the other caverns I encountered a while back. If she'd dead, we can at least take her armor. Let's go."

To Rashida's relief, she heard the two warlords leave, but groaned as she realized she was going to have to climb up out of this infernal pit she'd fallen into. If the boy truly could find a path to the bottom of this pit, if it even had a bottom, Rashida could escape them by climbing up. Gritting her teeth, she sought a foothold in the rough stone.

The climb was torturous and difficult, the stone cutting into her skin and yielding only the shallowest of handholds. Several times Rashida had run out of handholds, and had to climb down and work her way sideways, hoping to find more handholds above. Her hurt shoulder throbbed the more she used it to pull her weight up, and both fingers and toes bled from the abrasive rock wall. She fought against the faintness that dizzied her from not having eaten in several long hours.

After a while, Rashida put all thought out of her head, letting her body move on its own accord, automatically feeling for places to jam her fingers or toes, and pulling herself up inch by inch. She was fortunate she'd not been wearing her armor, realizing the gauntlets and boots never would have been able to grab hold of the rock, nor fit into the tiny crevices she had to use.

When at last her reaching hand encountered nothing but air, Rashida laughed aloud, unable to keep from it. 'You're there,' she told herself, summoning the strength for one more heave upwards. 'You're there, just once more.'

Her injured arm strained, shaking, to pull her up to the top of the pit, her other hand scrabbling for purchase on the cave floor, and then she was lying on a heap, nearly laughing with exhausted relief. She sat shakily up and grasped the armor orb from her pocket, forming the riot gear around her body. Able to conjure her glow without fully armoring up, Rashida heaved herself to her feet. 'I can't allow myself to rest,' she thought, stumbling towards the end of the passage way, her path lit once more. She had no idea how long it would take the warlords to find the pit, and to realize Rashida had escaped it.

Falling had been a mixed blessing. It had both exhausted and injured Rashida, but it had thrown her enemies off her trail, giving her the time she needed to figure out the passages of the labyrinthine caves. When she finally caught sight of daylight streaming onto the stone walls and the dirt floor, she let a laugh of elation, stumbling into the sun. She immediately turned her face to the sun, feeling its light invigorating her, sending a surge of energy through her body. She ached in every bone, but felt a hundred times better than she had an hour before.

'Now I must find out where I am,' she thought, taking in her surroundings. There were trees and bushes, dirt and stone, but no signs of civilization. But at least several of the trees bore fruit—apples of some kind. Walking shakily to a tree whose fruit was within her reach, she picked one and bit into it, closing her eyes as the nourishment almost immediately settled her stomach and began to stave off the shakes. She sat down, eating two more apples before she felt strong enough again to walk. At least it was daytime out.

Letting the sun shine off her sub-armor, Rashida set off.

When night fell, Rashida had not found a way yet out of the woods, but she did not mind. Seeking out a dense little grove for shelter, she banished her sub-armor and sat in a patch of soft moss, eating two more apples for supper. She was surprised that she was not more weary, but then remembered she'd worn her sub-gear now for several hours, and walked in the sun for much of it.

What was more puzzling was the state of her hands and feet. They'd been torn up by the rock of the cave, though her fingers had been hurt worse than her tough feet. But as she sat in the moss, looking at her fingers, she was a little disoriented to realize they were not cut. In fact they weren't even scarred, only smeared with dried blood, which wiped off easily enough onto the moss. Her arm no longer hurt, either. "How?" she murmured. Could it be that her armor healed her? No one else's seemed to have healed them, only eased their weariness and aches. "The light of healing," she murmured suddenly, laughing as she leaned back against a nearby tree. She knew then she was right, and that this healing power could work on others. Amaya had said one of their armors had the ability to heal, and Rashida remembered wanting to be a doctor as a younger girl—perhaps the armor had sensed that in her!

The young Ronin closed her eyes, feeling extremely satisfied. She had escaped her pursuers, and discovered her armor's power. It would be a great help, to heal, and she couldn't wait to try it out on someone else.

---

In the Nether Realm, in the lowest levels of Talpa's palace, Tarun understood quickly what Talpa had said about suffering. He hadn't known exactly what the spirits around him were doing right at first, only that it hurt, like he'd never felt before. A deep, crippling ache, that made him feel drained and weak. It wasn't constant, else he'd have passed out long ago, but frequent enough to keep even him exhausted and miserable.

He'd tried once to run, only to find an invisible barrier around the area he'd been dropped into, and endured a vicious retaliation from the spirits for his attempt. Desperate, he'd hurled a powerful projectile with his sling, but the bubbles around the spirits protected them, and they'd retaliated once more. Tarun had not tried again.

He realized after a while that the spirits were feeding on the energy from his armor, and had banished it, leaving only the riot gear on. It helped, some...he didn't know if it was just his imagination or if it really lessened the effects, but either way it didn't seem to be as horrible when the spirits began drawing energy from him.

Tarun did not know how much time had passed, and had given up trying to stand and move around. Every time he had, the awful spirit things seemed to decide he had been allowed to gain too much strength, and drained him until he fell to his knees. He stopped after a while, and only sat in the water with his arms around his knees, occasionally wiping at his eyes and feeling disgusted with himself for getting caught. Would he be stuck here forever? Would the others be able to get him out? He was more scared than he had ever been in his life.

Hours passed, and Tarun wanted desperately to sleep, but could not lie down in the water. He'd managed once or twice to slip into a light doze, his head lying on his knees. Each time he did, though, he was wakened not long after by the spirits' torment.

Sometime the next morning, and Tarun knew it was morning because he didn't feel nearly so exhausted, something happened that both pleased and dismayed him. A pair of doors opened on the far side of the cavern, doors Tarun hadn't even noticed until then, and about a half-dozen more spirits entered, suspending something orange between them all. Tarun recognized who it was a second before the spirits dropped him  
unceremoniously into the water next to Tarun.

"Demetrius!" Forgetting the spirits for just a minute, Tarun knelt down, grabbing the burly youth under the arms and trying to lift him up. Demetrius's armor was shielding him from drowning, but Tarun didn't know that. Straining as hard as he could, Tarun managed to get Demetrius's face up out of the water, half resting Demetrius on his knees. He pulled the older boy's helmet off, setting it in the water next to him, and checked to see if he was breathing. To Tarun's relief, he seemed to be breathing quite normally.

It was an incredible comfort not to be alone, and some consolation that he wasn't the only one who'd been captured. But he was afraid for both of them now, and the terrible thought occurred that others might be prisoners too, but being held elsewhere.

He tried for a few moments to wake Demetrius, but he was solidly unconscious, so Tarun just clung to him, concentrating on not letting him slip again beneath the water, and waiting unhappily for what would happen next.

It wasn't until several hours later that it happened; Demetrius had woken, and the doors were opened once more. The Japanese woman and the creepy blond warlord entered, dragging Killian's blue-clad form between them. They tossed the boy into the water before grinning at Tarun and Demetrius, and leaving the cavern.

---

Killian drifted into the realm of half-consciousness, not able to wake fully, or to open his eyes, but slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He floated gently, submerged in something like water, but there was something very wrong with it, because it gave him no strength. Still, it was better than the desert, by far, and for the moment, that was enough.

The desert. Killian had been flung by means he couldn't yet comprehend into the worst possible place he could have ended up; a place of hot, searing sun, and endless, arid dunes of sand. No plants grew in the unforgiving ground, and the very rare wildlife was small and hostile. Killian wanted to shiver as he remembered waking up, lying on the chilly sands, his body half covered in slithering drifts. He remembered standing up and realizing his armor helmet had extended a sort of protective mask over his face, and how he'd looked around in confusion at what he saw.

He didn't know what desert it was, only that the stars were unfamiliar and more numerous than he'd ever seen, and the only life in the area seemed to be him. He saw nothing for miles and miles.

Shivering in the strange cold of a desert night Killian had begun to walk, hoping desperately to find a town, or a group of travelers, and oasis—even a mud puddle would have done. As the sun rose, the temperature soared to something Killian had never experienced before. Before it had cleared the horizon, he began to sweat, desperately wanting to take his armor off but not daring, knowing it would waste precious water. And there wasn't any to spare.

When the sun was overhead, Killian hadn't been able to walk anymore, seeking the dubious shade of a large, overhanging dune, sitting in the sand and trying to puzzle a way out of the situation. But there was no way. No way but to walk, and hope.

When sun had dipped a little, Killian made himself stand, not wanting to, but wanting to lie down and let the sands claim him even more. He'd shivered uncontrollably at the thought, of him lying still on the sands, the arid wind sweeping the sands over his body bit by bit. He wondered how many people had been killed in just such a way, and who now lay meters below the surface.

He didn't know how he'd gotten through the day, only that the only things he was aware of by the time darkness fell was how his tongue hurt like he'd injured it, of how his throat was so dry he could make no sound, and how his muscled ached horribly. It was taking more and more of his energy to simply walk.

And then the night. The night had not been much better, the temperature plunging so much that Killian wondered if he was delirious. He'd gone from sweating to shivering within three hours, which seemed to tire him out. Still, without the sun overhead, he didn't feel he was being boiled alive.

After several breaks, Killian found himself walking towards the rising sun, stopping and gazing at it in fear, the clear intuition going through his mind that he'd not survive the day. The thirst was maddening, twisting his gut and making him dizzy. The air he breathed in hurt; parched, torrid wind against his swollen throat.

And then _they_ had shown up. The woman Killian and Nohano had fought with at the Renaissance Faire, and a man that for just a moment Killian thought was from Australia. He remembered the woman's taunts, the man's frightening armor, the fear he'd felt... Then the woman had attacked him, and Killian could barely lift his weapon.

She'd enjoyed fighting him, knowing he was in no condition to resist her. She taunted him as he struck, never quite hard enough to down him completely, never hard enough to kill him. The Englishman stayed back, some kind of blow gun in his hands, taking potshots at Killian every few minutes. Most of the shots didn't hit him, but those that found their way into the tiny chinks of Killian's armor made him shake, sent strange, unnatural energy through him, energizing his muscles when he thought he couldn't lift them any more. He didn't understand, at first, why he seemed to be helping Killian, until he realized just how much they were enjoying watching him struggle.

The woman knew then the game was over, and took her defeating blow, a strike to the head with her katana, knocking him out. He couldn't decide if he had been relieved or only scared.

Now he knew which it was; relieved. He wouldn't have been able to endure much more, and knew he'd been pushed beyond his limits as it was.

Consciousness was returning to him bit by bit. Voices, echoing in his head or through the water, came to him. The deep, persistent ache of his muscles was suddenly there, throbbing with his heartbeat. He groaned, struggling to open his eyes, both alarmed and puzzled to see that whatever he was in, it was brilliant orange, and glowed the smallest bit.

Killian winced and moved slowly to push himself up, and was startled by two pairs of hands, helping him to sit up. He looked at them as the mask slid back into his helmet, and was baffled to see Demetrius and Tarun there, looking exhausted and worried. "What--" Killian tried to say, but found he couldn't speak aloud. His throat still pricked horribly, and he looked down at the "water" in front of him.

We don't know if we can drink it, came Demetrius's mind-speak voice. We didn't dare try. I don't even know if it's water.

Killian frowned at the stuff, managing to cup a palmful of the liquid into one of his gauntlets. He closed his eyes, feeling the water, sensing what it was made of. He was no chemistry major, but somehow his armor enabled him to sense water, sense if it was poisoned or filled with bacteria, or even if something was water or not. It's water, he finally said, opening his eyes and looking at it in fascination. But infused with...energy. It's some kind of energy conductor. Dark energy. It's not safe for you two yet, but I can make it that way. He would be able to drink it, he knew that. He'd even experimented once, over some mild protesting from Nohano, putting various undesirable things into a cup of water and trying to drink it. Killian hadn't been worried. Ever since he'd cleaned that oil slick, he'd just known that tainted water would never be a threat to him.

'Of course,' he thought a moment later, fighting not to spit out the mouthful of water he'd taken, 'that does nothing about the taste.' He thought that this must be what toxic waste tasted like.

Once Killian had drunk enough to take the awful edge off his thirst, and cleaned enough of the water that his friends could quench their own thirst, Killian was able to pay attention to everything _else_ around him. Large cavern, filled with orange, tainted water, large pillars disappearing into the ceiling of a high cavern, and a pair of doors at one end.

And then there were the spirits. Killian got a condensed version of Tarun and Demetrius's adventures up to that point, dismayed when he was told what the spirits do. He looked at Tarun, who looked more tired than Killian had ever seen him, and Demetrius was wasn't entirely perky, himself. How long have you two been here? he asked.

A few hours at least, for me, said Demetrius.

A long time. Dais got me right away.

Right away. That meant Tarun had been here at least twenty-four hours, since Killian had no clue how long he'd been out. "Gods," he whispered, wincing at the pain in his throat from speaking aloud. He put an arm around Tarun, who leaned against him, then peered up at the spirit-things that surrounded them. They're not doing it now...

No, said Demetrius. It's not constant. But frequent.

What do these bastards intend to do with us? Killian didn't want to know the answer, but he had to ask.

Tarun says he wants our armor, said Demetrius grimly. But I think that as soon as he has it, he'll kill us. Or worse.

Or worse. What a fantastic thought. Killian took a big breath

Take your armor off, said Tarun, and Killian realized they were both in their riot gear. It doesn't hurt as much when they drain you then.

Killian shivered a little bit, imagining those horrible, unwholesome creatures draining that kid's energy from him. It made him furious in fact, though he hadn't the strength to feel the fury much at the moment. It was kind of distant. Still, he took Tarun's advice and banished the main armor, breathing a sigh of relief as the weight left him and his head was uncovered. Much better.

Killian's moving around, however, seemed to have attracted the spirits' attention. He looked up in fear as they began to crowd in, tightening his grip on Tarun as the boy flinched and huddled against him, feeling Demetrius grasp his free hand. 'Oh gods, Nohano, I hope you guys can get us out of this.'

Tarun holding on to Demetrius

http/ in the desert, fighting Jin Tanaka.

http/ 


	27. Tundra Battle

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 27: Tundra Battle**

The sun beat down, but it gave only the feeblest light, and no warmth at all. The wind was icy and damp, whipping the snow flurries through the frigid air, and shaking the branches of the leafless trees. Even the evergreens were sparse and scrawny, and signs of life were nil.

Nohano woke lying in a snow drift, shivering horribly, clad in his full armor. He had never seen real snow before, though he recognized what it was. To say he was not impressed would have been quite an understatement; he loathed it on sight.

The boy stood, wincing at the ache in his muscles, stiffened from his fight, and then this crippling cold. 'Where the hell am I?' He remembered the lightning, and then...this. He scowled, taking a moment to heat up his armor, taking a big breath as his body began to thaw. A mask covered his face, attached to his helmet, and Nohano understood it was part of the protection his armor offered against the deadly weather. He decided he would have to be very careful about using it to keep warm; if he used all its power, he'd be left to the elements.

And to attack.

For the moment, he seemed to be alone, with nothing but a few struggling trees dotting the snow-infested lands. Nohano sighed, and began to walk. He had no clue where the nearest city or village might be, but he had to go _somewhere_. Standing around would make an icicle out of him.

Several hours later, Nohano had taken the power of his armor down so that it kept the cold only barely at bay. It wasn't nearly hot enough for his liking, but it kept him from shivering, and it would conserve power. The snow had begun to fall more heavily, wet and cold, seeming worse than it really was because of the chill wind. Nohano resolved firmly to never, ever live where there was snowfall, and thought anyone who willingly did so was completely insane.

A sudden, muffled voice caught Nohano's ear, and he was suddenly alert, standing still and trying to figure where the voices were coming from. He ducked behind a snow drift, catching sight of something dark red, and curling his lip when he realized who it was: Kale. That bloody figured—frigid bastard was probably right at home here. He seemed to be looking for something—Nohano likely—and frustrated that he hadn't yet found him. 'Well,' thought Nohano. 'Maybe I should drop by and say "hello".' He couldn't flee, because Kale was far better in the snow than Nohano, and where could he hide? Besides, the idea of running away from this jerk did not sit well on Nohano's conscience; Kale had taunted him about Robert's death, had attacked him and his friends—for that matter, he'd been one of the ones _responsible_ for Robert's death!

Nohano blinked. It had never really sunk in. His grief for his friend was strong, and he resented the attack back at the Renaissance Faire greatly, but somehow he had never out and out thought, 'hey, these guys killed Robert.' "You killed him," he whispered, looking back up to where Kale had stopped, listening. Nohano took a very deep breath, feeling his hands shake within their gauntlets, and stood up.

Kale was not far away, and Nohano was not trying to be quiet. The warlord spun around, his eyes widening behind his mask, freezing in place for just a moment. Without knowing he was going to do it ahead of time, Nohano let out a fierce yell and grabbed the hilts of his katana, drawing them and charging the startled warlord.

Kale's nodatchi was in his hand in less than a second, only just in time to block Nohano's furious blow. His eyes still wide with surprise, Kale swung the sword at Nohano's head. Nohano ducked, rolling in the snow and springing lightly to his feet. He noticed distractedly that he left steaming, melted holes in the snow where he'd touched it.

"Hi!" said Nohano, grinning in an unpleasant sort of way. "Figured I'd make it easy for you and show myself. That way you didn't have to bother attacking me from behind like a coward again."

His eyes widening in anger at the insult, Kale lunged at Nohano, thrusting with his longsword, Nohano twisting agilely out of the way. He felt a thrill of fear at the closeness of the attack, but laughed, all the same. Nohano could not deny the terrifying exhilaration of the battle, fighting one on one against the bastards that had turned his life upside down. He felt energy surging through his muscles, from adrenaline or his armor—he didn't care which, and pressed the attack.

Nohano had been a reluctant warrior, but something had changed in him over the weeks; slowly at first, but suddenly blazing forth in all its fury. He was born to fight evil, and these warlords were about as malevolent as you could get. Nohano was firmly convinced that if the warlords weren't evil incarnates, they at the very least worked for one!

"You've improved, whelp," Kale hissed, stopping for only a moment to catch his breath. Nohano paused as well, taking the time to recover for a moment, his eyes glued to his opponent. "You may actually give me a good fight before I present you to my master."

"Ha!" Nohano sneered at Kale's claim, his eyes narrowing. "Bring it on, dogbreath!"

But Kale did not attack just yet, though Nohano could tell he really wanted to. Instead, he only laughed, the sound that grated on Nohano's deepest nerves. He hated that smug laughter with a passion! "So confident, are you, boy? Weeks of training against decades of experience?"

Nohano felt his face grow warm as he let a growl of indignation at Kale's mockery. Kale looked Nohano right in the eyes, smiling like a wolf on a successful hunt, and the expression wasn't right. He'd not won yet, and surely he wasn't so arrogant as to assume that he would, would he? Why so smug?

Nohano was almost caught by the attack. Sound was strange there, muffled by the snow, and the shadows were tricky. But the light had shifted, and the weeks of battle training Kale so disdained had paid off. Nohano suddenly launched himself to one side, rolling awkwardly in the snow, something lurid pink flying past him arm. Kale snarled something in Japanese, and Nohano scrambled to his feet, bringing up his katana to block a furious attack from Dais, Warlord of Illusion. A morningstar, the same color as his strange armor, flew at Nohano's face once more, grazing the side of his helmet and knocking him off balance.

Kale and Dais both ran at him then, like bulls on the charge, and Nohano ran to meet them, leaping up into the air, laughing in sudden delight as he soared high above them. He dove forward, landing on the snow with his arms above his head, rolling neatly up to his feet and spinning around to fact his astonished adversaries.

Nohano was scared, and he was miserably cold. But the battle was invigorating him. When Dais cast the scythes from his back, and Kale cried out his lightning slash attack, Nohano charged forward. He missed the scythes, but caught Kale's lightning full in the chest, screaming as he was flung violently backwards.

Dais ran at him, pressing the advantage, but Nohano lurched to his feet and dove to the side.

Your flare attack, Nohano Kalama

The voice startled him, nearly costing him dearly in his fight as Kale's clawed gauntlet sliced the snow inches from where he stood. He didn't know who the voice belonged too, but now wasn't the time to think on it; his flare attack! How could he have forgotten? Nohano growled, joining his katana and crying out, "Flare up _now_!"

When the young Ronin first discovered the words to channel their attacks, Nohano had thought they were melodramatic and unnecessary. But once he'd felt the power that surged through him each time he shouted the words, to see the sizzling, red beams of fire that shot from the katana, he no longer thought them to be so corny. A satisfying sear of energy shot at Kale's face.

Kale's eyes widened as he dodged to the left, caught by the grazing edge of Nohano's fiery attack, but Dais caught the full brunt of the attack, yowling in pain as he was thrown to the ground. Kale stood up, but Nohano was lifting the katana once more, calling out his battle cry, following Kale's movements with his weapons.

Kale dodged the blazing energy, but Nohano spun to follow him, pulling the energy into a new course. It hit Kale, sending the Warlord of Corruption into the wet snow, which hissed from the heat. Nohano laughed in astonished delight at the two huge furrows he'd made in the ground, soil darkening the white snow and turning it to slush.

Things got scary, fast. Nohano ducked as Dais's morningstar flew at his face, yelled as the dark longsword bit into his armor, reeled from a close brush with Dais's scythe fan. It was ten times as difficult to fight two people as the fight one, and he was suddenly grateful for all the hours he'd put in practicing against more than one adversary! He was learning to anticipate the warlords' strategies, keeping his eye on one, while dodging away from the other.

A particularly powerful flare attack sent Dais sprawling in the snow, where he lay unmoving for several moments. Kale's eyes widened as he looked over at his comrade for just a moment, giving Nohano an opening; he lunged forward, jabbing both katana into Kale's armor. Kale snarled in pain as the blades sank partway through the metal, and Nohano yanked them free, backing up and parrying Kale's furious counter attack.

And then he slipped.

Ice, lurking unseen beneath the snow, had taken his boots from under him and sprawled him onto his back, one katana thunking into a snow bank several meters away. Before Nohano could even think about going after it, Kale dove at him, pinning him down into the snow, striking his hands with the nodatchi.

Nohano yelled in alarm as the second katana flew from his hands, suddenly fighting for his life, fighting to keep Kale's sword from slicing his throat. He grabbed the blade, dismayed that the sword dug gouges in his metal gauntlets, and wrenched it away from his throat.

Dais stirred then, groaning and getting up to his knees and peering at the struggling pair with one bright eye. Nohano growled and shifted his weight, trapping Kale's sword hand with his arm, fighting to get out from underneath him. He yelled in protest as Kale's clawed hand caught the edge of his helmet, flinging it off of him; snow began to seep into his hair, chilling him. He grabbed the clawed hand and held onto it.

"Give it up, boy," Dais hissed. He stood, but did not join the fight, a little unsteady on his feet. "You will join your little comrade in Master Talpa's palace!"

_What_ had he said? Distracted for a moment, Nohano jerked his head around to stare, and Dais laughed unpleasantly. "Oh yes. The child with the sun armor. He sits in Talpa's dungeon as we speak, drained of his power by the Nether Spirits!"

Nohano only had time to hope desperately that Dais was lying, before Kale freed himself with a sudden lurch. Nohano screamed as the claw blades slashed across his face, and hot blood flowed down his cheek, lurid against the snow as it pattered down.

The pain fueled his fury, obliterating Dais's mocking laugh. Nohano brought a hand up to block a second swipe of Kale's nodatchi; he bucked his hips to throw Kale off balance. The second Kale's weight shifted, Nohano kicked upwards with one booted foot, throwing Kale aside and allowing Nohano to lunge away from him. He dove for his swords, lying within a meter of one another, but had to roll away from Kale's sword, unable to reach them. Unable to reach them, he fought unarmed.

Nohano had never fought for so long, but in the end, he claimed victory. Dais tried once to rejoin the fight, but was knocked cold by Kale's own weapon, struck when Nohano ducked the blow intended for him. He laughed at the look of shocked horror on Kale's face, a half-crazed sound that worried him a little in the back of his mind. "Nice shot, Kale! Couldn't've done better myself!"

Kale's anger did not serve him as well as Nohano's had; he lunged blindly at Nohano, losing his sword when Nohano disarmed him with a spinning kick he had just recently mastered. The boy darted forward to grab the dark longsword, bringing it up and around, twisted his body into a vicious, backhanded blow.

Kale's own blade caught him across the face, cutting through his helmet. sending him sprawling on the ground. Nohano nearly recoiled at the hatred in Kale's blue eyes, as the injured warlord staggered over to Dais's unmoving form. Kale grasped the other man's shoulders in a surprisingly concerned manner, glancing down as if to see if Dais was alive or not. As Nohano watched, the two warlords disappeared in a flash of reddish lightning, the longsword in Nohano's hand going with them.

Nohano watched the place where they had been in amazement, his victory sinking in. Two of them—he'd fought two, and come out victorious!

He laughed in amazement and turned to find his own swords, but a nauseating eave of dizziness staggered him, and he dropped weakly to his knees. A vague, confused knowledge that he needed to get out of there and get help made him stagger to his feet, but he could not make his trembling legs move. And the adrenaline rush drained, Nohano's strength left him, and he collapsed to the snow.


	28. New Discoveries

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 28 : New Discoveries**

Hundreds of miles away, an alarm clock rang shrilly, and was silenced a moment later when a brown hand knocked it from its improvised table. A growl from the owner of the arm signified that the owner was now awake, but not entirely pleased to be so. "I was having a good dream!" he slurred irritably at the alarm clock, not bothering to lift his head from the cot.

He had dreamt of flying. He dreamed of flying often, for as long as he could remember, and enjoyed them as much as ever. In this one he'd been flying under his own power, swooping like a bird of prey through the mist of the clouds. It was one of the best dreams he'd ever had, and then the evil alarm had gone off. "May your circuits all rust," he grumbled, not opening his eyes. He wondered briefly if that dream had been merely a subconscious wish, or something more. In the past months he'd been taking his dreams quite seriously. It was possible...he was Ronin of Strata, after all, and his element was air. 'Is it possible?' he thought excitedly. To soar the skies like an eagle--!

"Time to wake," said a soft voice, accompanied by a gentle shake to Suisei's shoulder.

He sighed and sat up, rubbing his eyes, realizing he was not in his riot gear. "Musta banished it in the night," he murmured.

Amaya chuckled. "You woke once and stumbled to find the bathroom. I think you had to take off your armor to--"

Amaya blushed faintly, and Suisei finally laughed. "I don't remember," he said, "but yeah, peeing requires a lack of armor. If you don't want a nasty mess, anyway." His smile faded as he looked around the empty room of the public shelter, remembering now what had happened the day before. He glanced over at Xander's cot, glad to see that the boy beginning to stir. Xander opened the one eye not covered with bandages, and looked around in confusion.

"How do you feel?" asked Amaya, her expression unusually soft. Amaya was rigid and formal much of the time, but she cared deeply for her friends, and it seemed to show more when one of them was hurt or unhappy. Once she had begun to bond with the other Ronin, the bond ran deep.

"I...dunno," said Xander, frowning, and then clenching his teeth and hissing in air. "Ow."

"Yeah, I imagine you're pretty sore," said Suisei. He himself had taken several minor injuries from his fight, but they were only sore, not as painful as the deep burn on Xan's face must be.

"That bastard!" Xan growled. He clearly remembered what had happened to him as he gingerly put a hand on top of the bandages. "Damn!"

Amaya winced, standing up and looking briefly around. "I think there are painkill pills here," she said. "Suisei and I tried to heal, but we don't have that power."

"I'll go look for them," said Suisei, standing up and carefully stretching. It felt almost odd to be in his clothing instead of his riot gear, but it also felt a lot freer; the armor wasn't very comfortable. Xan asked where they were and how they'd gotten there, and as Suisei left, Amaya was telling him the story. Suisei wanted to be alone for a few moments, his worries and musings returning to him now that his mind was waking up. He wondered where Tarun was, or if he'd fought the way the others seemingly had. Had he done well? Was he hurt? Which of the warlords had been sent after him?

It did not take long to locate a bottle of painkillers, and Suisei brought the bottle out with him, stopping briefly to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. When he returned to the main room, Xander was sitting up on his cot looking extremely irritated, and Amaya's expression was that of sympathy. "Thanks," said Xan quietly as Suisei handed him the glass and the bottle, and as Xan wrestled with the bottle, Suisei sat down in one of the chairs. He sighed, his chin in his hands, and stared at the opposite wall.

"My energy is all back," said Amaya. "I will try and teleport to where Tarun is--if I can get to him, he will be here soon."

Suisei took a big breath and looked up, nodding, but not daring to hope too much. 'Well, she got to me all right--though I'm not sure if she was aiming for me or for the beach. But she found Xan--she's got to find Tarun!'

Have hope, Suisei, said Amaya, speaking without awkwardness over the mind link. We Ronin will unite again.

Suisei managed a small smile as Amaya took several steps away from the cots, calling out to gather her main armor to her. Xan looked on interest, having managed to get the bottle open, and swallowed a couple of the pills inside. "You'd think that after hundreds of years, they'd make medicine that tasted good," he muttered in disgust.

Suisei didn't blame him for complaining, though he was too distracted to reply. He watched as Amaya closed her eyes, slowing her breathing, and standing very still. He gasped at a sudden flash of midnight blue electricity that surrounded the girl, enveloping her, leaving nothing except for thin air. Xan cursed in astonishment, and Suisei only stared. That was absolutely amazing.

He knew something had gone terribly wrong, however, a moment later, when a burst of that same lighting-like energy burst through the entire chamber, sending Suisei and Xan scrambling for cover. Amaya's form blinked into existence, landing with a clumsy clatter of metal on the tiles.

"The hell!" exclaimed Xander, standing up and staring, as Suisei ran over to her limp form and knelt at her side. Shaking, he breathed a sigh of relief when she groaned and turned over before he could touch her, sitting back on her heels.

"What happened?" asked Suisei, frowning in alarm as she removed her helmet, and blood spattered onto the ground from her nose.

"I don-doe," she gasped, holding a shaky hand up and pinching her swollen nose to stop the flow of blood. A gash cut into her head as well, and a bruise seemed to be forming on her cheeks. It looked for all the world like she'd run face-first into a wall.

"Christ, did something attack you?" Xan asked, also coming over and kneeling down, his own injury temporarily forgotten.

Amaya shook her head and then grimaced, closing her eyes briefly and banishing her armor. "Doe," she said, her voice distorted from pinching her bleeding nose shut. "Doe wud--" She broke off and switched to telepathy, where she could communicate without handicap. No one attacked me at all--no one had a chance! I disappeared, but I never appeared on the other end. I don't know what happened, but it was as if I ran into a barrier, or--or something was in my way, or--I don't know!

Cold spread over Suisei's chest as he sat back on the floor, sudden fear for Tarun making his hands shake. "D-do you think Tarun's dead?" he asked. "That's why you couldn't get to him?"

He was relieved to feel an immediate feeling of negation from Amaya. No, she said. If he was dead, I'd still be able to appear where his body was. As Suisei's eyes widened, she winced. Sorry, Suisei, I should have thought before I spoke. I am certain he's not dead. But he's somewhere I can't reach!

"You got me all the way in bum-fucked Egypt," said Xan baldly, making Suisei blink. Of all the American slang he'd learned, that was a new one. And he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't a real place! "If you can't reach him--where could he be?"

Amaya didn't answer for a moment, which made the fear come right back into Suisei's mind. Finally, she sighed. I fear he is in the Nether Realm.

"What?" Suisei stared for a moment, before shaking his head. "No...you're saying you think the Dynasty's got him?" She didn't answer, but she didn't need to, he could feel that's what she believed. "My God---w-well we can't---we can't leave him there, we've got to get him! How...how do we get there?"

I am not sure, said Amaya cautiously. "But we may be able to find out. I must get to my belongings. I have copies of research, research that my family has done, and copies of the legends that I could get from my grandmother. There may be something there.

"That's not gonna be easy," said Xander. He looked at Amaya for a moment before standing and bringing over the painkillers and shaking out a couple of them for her. She smiled at him briefly in thanks and dry-swallowed them, making Xander almost cringe with revulsion.

"What of the others?" asked Suisei suddenly.

I don't know, said Amaya. I would have to try and reach them. I will try. This attempt hurt me, but took almost no energy. I was not able to travel any distance, so it took no energy from my armor. I think the farther the distance, the greater the energy drain.

"Makes sense," said Xan, his mouth still twisted up involuntarily at the idea of dry-swallowing the nasty medicine. "Still, getting hurt's no picnic."

No," she agreed, standing up and wincing a bit. But I must do it. I wish there was a different way!

"I just wish we could help," said Suisei softly, standing up also and stepping back a bit. "Be careful."

Amaya did not answer, only gave a small sigh and took her hand from her nose, summoning her sub-gear, and calling out for her armor in a muffled, distorted voice. The armor didn't seem to care that she couldn't speak properly, for it obediently adhered to her riot gear, sleek and dark.

When she disappeared, Xander and Suisei stood for a moment, tensed, waiting for her to be flung back into the room; when that did not happen, Suisei was encouraged. He didn't know who she was going for next, but whoever it was, was obviously not a prisoner of the Dynasty.

Fifteen minutes later, Amaya returned, Rashida firmly held in her arms. The two girls hit the floor and stumbled, both laughing as they caught their balance. The two boys watched this strange scene in bemusement; Rashida, who was in her sub-gear, looked extremely self-satisfied, and Amaya's injuries were gone. She healed it! Amaya said in greeting. It was Rashida, the Halo armor! We have found our healer!

Suisei blinked, and then found he was able to laugh, too, glad of the discovery. "You must have had an interesting day," he said to Rashida, who laughed a bit ruefully.

You could say that. She turned then to Xan, who looked a little taken aback. Amaya says you were badly burned...I can heal that now. She grinned and made a "come here" gesture. Let's get that wrapping off--you look like a mummy.

Surprised into a snort of laughter, Xander approached and let Rashida peel off the gauze, clenching his teeth in pain. Suisei couldn't help but flinch at the sight of Xander's skin; it was black and red, raw and very painful looking. "How exactly did that happen?" Suisei asked as Rashida armored up and gently placed her hands on the side of Xan's face.

I have no clue where I was, he said ruefully, but the stone was like a hot iron. That jerk-off in teddy bear armor knocked my helmet off and tackled me, pressing my face on the damned stone. Gods, that hur--_ow!_

Sorry, said Rashida lightly. It might hurt a moment.

Now she tells me, Xan muttered, looking surly, and Suisei chuckled. Rashida was never a very subtle sort. But when she pulled her hand away from Xan, his skin was smooth and unmarked, and his face bore amazement instead of pain. "Holy shit, Rashida...you should go into the medical profession."

Beaming, Rashida stepped back, looking him over. "I am happy for this," she said. "I like to heal people. I wanted to doctor as a child."

"I will now try and reach the other three," said Amaya, stepping back once more. She looked far less reluctant than she had before going after Rashida; knowing that any injuries she took could be healed probably made it a lot less intimidating.

Nearly forty-five minutes later, only one more had joined them. Attempts to reach Demetrius and Killian had sent Amaya crashing back into the shelter, tended each time by Rashida. Looking quite bedraggled, Amaya was grimacing in anticipation as she went after the last member of the group, Nohano, disappearing from the chamber and leaving the others tensed for her return.

She didn't come back for about a half hour, and when she did, she carried Nohano in her arms, looking extremely worried. Suisei suddenly knew, knew in the deepest part of his spirit, that had she waited even five minutes longer, she would have brought back Nohano's dead body. As it was, he was barely alive, his skin an ashen gray, blood covering his face, clad only in the clothing he'd worn to Tarun's kabaddi match.

Suisei cursed and ran forward, grabbing Nohano from Amaya's arms and setting him on the nearest cot. He didn't stop to think, only armored up, willing his gear into existence, and grasping Nohano's arms. He did not know what he was doing, working on the most primal of instincts, and letting the energy of his armor guide him. He poured his energy into Nohano, feeling in a vague sort of way as his friend's life force seemed to intensify, slowly stabilizing. Suisei could feel Nohano's weak heartbeat as his own, could feel his shallow breaths as if in his own lungs.

He broke away from Nohano suddenly, shuddering, and gasping in air, standing with his eyes closed. He was horrified to realize he'd just felt what it was like to be dying, brought back to life through magic, and hoped that he never had to do that again in his entire life.

Rashida took over then, sitting next to Nohano and covering him with Suisei's blanket. Nohano was shivering now, something he hadn't been doing when Amaya brought him in, and Suisei thought it was a good sign.

A touch on his arm startled him; he looked down to see Amaya smiling up at him, looking her age for once, instead of much older. Even Suisei sometimes thought of Amaya as an adult. Even as tiny as she was, not even a foot taller than Tarun and petite, it was so easy to forget she was four years his junior. But she had been afraid, and the fear was not yet gone; fear always made a person seem younger.

"He's gonna be okay," said Suisei shakily. "You got to him in time."

I wasn't sure, she said, her mental voice calm and steady, but Suisei could feel how shaken she was. I couldn't tell if he was alive or not. I just couldn't tell, he was barely breathing, and--

She took a big breath and closed her eyes, and Suisei slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. Easy, little sister, he said, and was rewarded with a shy, pleased smile. He's alive. And Rashida'll get him back to health.

Amaya nodded, sending a little surge of gratitude through the mental link, a sensation that was both strange and pleasant. I couldn't find him at first, she said. He was buried completely in a drift. He wasn't even in his sub-armor. I wasn't sure why, but I didn't try to figure it out then. I just brought him.

"Guess we'll find out when he wakes," said Suisei.

Everyone was quiet then, only watching Rashida work. She spent far longer with Nohano than she had with Xan or Amaya, which worried Suisei a little. But finally she stood, looking tired. He'll be all right, she said, smiling a little. He had several injuries, and a good bit of frostbite. Suisei shuddered. Took a while to find everything. Still gotta get him warmed up, though. I can't get rid of hypothermia.

"Just stick him in the oven," said Xander with a relieved laugh.

"You know that's not too bad an idea," said Suisei. "He's not in armor so it might hurt him to put him in an actual flame, but there's no reason we can't turn one of the ovens on high and stick his cot in front of it."

The others agreed, and so the four of them surrounded Nohano's cot and bore it into the kitchen, Rashida turning the oven up and opening the doors once they were inside. Amaya, Suisei, and Xander arranged the cot so that Nohano was close.

"I'll go get some chairs," said Amaya. "We can sit in here and rest. Then...then I think we need to make some plans."


	29. Talpa

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 29: Talpa**

Talpa stood within his chamber, the empty sockets of his mask peering out at the men and women who stood before him. Ten warlords, his three ranking ones at the forefront, the rest behind, standing there silently.

In truth, Talpa was pleased; they had caught three of the new Ronin group, and he knew the others would come after them in any way possible. One way or another he would have them all here. However he was _not_ pleased that his three oldest servants had all failed in their quests. It was luck that lost Sekhmet his victim, and Dais had already brought one Ronin it was true, but failure was failure. Talpa's immediate reaction, a burst of painful dark energy, had been their punishment—mild, but he did not need them weakened. There would be more fighting to come, and some of them had been injured in their fights, Sekhmet and Shuang worst of all.

And now, he addressed them all. "So," Talpa murmured, his eyes sweeping the chamber. "Three only. Three of these children...and one was captured by my Nether Spirits." He turned to Dais, who'd had to be healed of his wounds from his battle with the boy who'd gotten the Wildfire armor, and nodded briefly. He'd failed, and so would not be praised, but his earlier success would save him a reprimand. Dais saluted.

He turned then to Jin Tanaka, whose expression was unreadable, and to Heath Jenkins, who looked extraordinarily smug. "You've done well," said Talpa simply, nodding in acknowledgement to their bows and pleased looks. The others, Talpa favored with a withering look of disgust. "I am disappointed. The rest of you are fortunate the situation is salvageable." He looked to Haazita and Cade; Cade blushed furiously under his gaze, and Haazita's dark eyes flashed with anger. "You two," Talpa said softly. "You fought two against one girl. And still she escaped. I am disgusted."

Cade bowed low, professing his regret and apologies in Ancient Japanese, clearly ashamed of his failure. It wasn't so much that he'd lost a fight; he enjoyed fighting, but his real humiliation was being outwitted. His real pride was his cunning, and to be so easily fooled grated at his pride. As for Haazita, she imitated the boy's behavior rather clumsily, adding in a snarl that it would not happen again. "Just let me get my hands on her once more," she snarled. "She'll not escape Haazita's grasp again!"

"I hope not," said Talpa simply, turning again to address the entire group. "And so. The Ronin have managed to escape my notice, beyond the range of the Nether Spirits and the magics of this Realm. But I know that they will come here. When they do, we must be prepared for them."

"Just tell us what to do, master Talpa," said Vitorrio determinedly, shaking a fist. "And we'll do it!"

"For now we will need information. Until those whelps arrive here there is little we can do, and the more information we can get on the wretched brats we can get, the better. I think it's time we all had a little conversation."

---

Killian sat in the water, his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. Demetrius lay half on Tarun's lap, sleeping, Tarun making sure he didn't slip underwater. None of them were willing to remain completely armored up, not while those horrid spirit things were up there, waiting to drain the power. And so they took turns sleeping, two of them watching the third to make sure he didn't slip beneath the water. Tarun was singing softly, a sound that was surprisingly soothing to Killian, even though the child did not sing all that well. That he could sing at all in the awful situation was a comfort.

Tarun was in the middle of a little singsong about what a creep Talpa was when the doors at the far end of the chamber opened. Tarun stopped singing abruptly, shaking Demetrius urgently awake, as feeble light spilled into the vast cavern.

Demetrius made a sound of half-awake irritation as the warlord Kale stepped in through the door, followed by Dais and Sekhmet. Behind them were all seven of the others, streaming into the chamber like ants and surrounding the three captives before they could even stand. Killian scrambled to his feet in alarm, noting every one of them had a weapon in hand. 'There's no way we could possibly fight them,' he thought desperately, looking down at his own body. 'We're not even armored up!'

"Master Talpa wants to speak with you," said Kale, his tone sounding a little weary as he approached. Killian wondered what they'd been up to; it was clear the other Ronin had managed to escape, and he hoped suddenly that whoever Kale had fought had kicked his arse all over the landscape.

"Oh, yeah?" said Tarun, his fists clenched, his back against Killian's and Demetrius's. "What if we don't?"

Kale peered at the boy, his lip curled in disgust. "If not, boy, then I have the great pleasure of beating you down and dragging you before him. Unless you think you can fight us and win? You've been here hours, drained of energy and power, no food, little sleep...powerful Nether Spirits hover above you and you are outnumbered more than three to one. If you believe you can defeat us, by all means try."

Killian winced slightly as Tarun scowled, his posture stiffening with indignation, but the boy said nothing. Killian hated to admit it, but there was nothing they could do just then except to comply. He has a point, he said reluctantly with the others. We try to fight, we're gonna get our arses handed to us on a platter.

Tarun was not pleased, and sent a barrage of anger through the mind link, all directed at Kale, to whom he'd taken a great dislike. Killian grasped his shoulder, looking sideways at Demetrius's weary nod. He looked at Kale and sighed. "Fine," he said. "We'll go quietly." 'For now,' he added silently.

Kale smirked, bowing in mock courtesy, and gestured at the door. "Very good, boy. You will follow Dais and Sekhmet, then. At least you've some sense, Torrent."

Bristling at being called Torrent by this jerk, a name he had grown quite fond of, Killian set his shoulders back and stalked towards the two figured who'd moved into the doorway, the spider and snake warlords. He heard Demetrius and Tarun following, and looked back once to see that Tarun had taken the older boy's hand. 'He's scared,' Killian thought angrily. 'And so am I! I'll get these miserable jerks if it's the last thing I do.' He just hoped that it was _not_ the last thing he ever did.

The procession was silent and grim, like a funeral march. Armored boots clanked on the dismal stone beneath their feet, clad drafts made Killian shiver and ruffled the flames of the blue-flame candles that lined the corridors.

The place was not much to look at. The hallways were stone from ceiling to floor, with heavy, wooden doors set into it at irregular intervals. Tarun had begun to sing again, softly, purely to annoy the warlords, Killian thought. He turned quickly at a clanging sound and a yelp of pain from Tarun.

"Ow!" Tarun hollered indignantly, rubbing his head, stopping and glaring furiously at the dark-armored warlord who'd struck him.

Killian tensed as several of the warlords raised their weaponry, and the warlord who'd hit Tarun growled at him to keep his mouth shut or he'd sew it shut. Killian only vaguely recognized the man, an Italian-sounding warlord with feline-ish armor. He grabbed Tarun's arm, ending a wave of soothing energy through the mind link. Easy, little mate, he said, urging the boy back into a walk, calming a little as their captors lowered their weapons slightly. Sing in the mind link if you like. I certainly like to hear it.

Oh! said Tarun, as if he'd not thought of it. That's a good idea. And so Killian's head was filled with a very peculiar version of song as they walked along the halls. It gave him something to focus on besides his own fear.

The chamber they were brought to was as gloomy and boring as the rest of the palace, though the figure who stood at the far end of it was anything but ordinary. The man was more than two meters tall, towering over even half the warlords, clad in full battle armor. But that wasn't the worst of it; the blood-red mask seemed to cover an empty visage; dark, blank eye sockets and a gaping, fanged maw for a mouth. The mask itself wouldn't have been so frightening if Killian hadn't the feeling there was nothing behind it.

The warlords herded Killian, Demetrius, and Tarun into the middle of the room, and retreated to the perimeter, watching. Tarun drew back slightly from the masked creature, his expression that of loathing. He was no longer singing.

Killian didn't blame him. The most optimistic, hopeful child in the world could not have sung in the presence of this monster; evil oozed from him like physical taint. He felt cold as the man looked down, his empty sockets seeming to glow with an unholy light. Demetrius cursed softly.

"Welcome, Ronin," said the demon with mock courtesy. Killian glanced briefly at Tarun, who scowled sullenly at the figure; he'd already met the bastard. Demetrius's scowl was far more belligerent as he gazed on the horrid specter, his lip curled with disgust.

"Right," Killian heard himself say, his voice a little higher than usual. "That was a great welcome, all right—who the hell are you?"

That's him! Tarun whispered urgently. Talpa!

Talpa gazed at Killian, and though the mask could not change expression, his disdain was clear. It seeped from his being the same way the evil did. "I suppose I should expect no more respect than that from an ignorant aborigine," he murmured.

Killian bristled at the insult, both to him and to the natives of his country.

"Little more than a savage, really," agreed Sekhmet, his deep voice tinged with unkind amusement. Killian turned to glare at him, noting with mild surprise he and the other warlords had shed their helmets.

They were a frightening lot. Sekhmet's hair was a toxic green, his skin yellowish and his eyes wide and without irises; Killian had the insane thought that he wasn't all human. Kale's hair was deep blue, his dark eyes peering at them with malice. A scar marred the skin around his left eyes. The white-haired one he and Nohano had met that day several weeks before, the one with the patch over his eye; was Dais, the one who wore the pinkish armor.

The lesser warlords were only slightly more normal looking. Shuang, the burly warlord of Destruction, was Oriental, with a broad face, and feral eyes whose black irises seemed too big. The Cruelty warlord...warlady?...was Oriental as well, and looked enough like Suisei to make Killian want to shudder; she was Jin Tanaka, the one Killian had fought in the desert, and he could not help but be intimidated by her sadistic gaze. The Englishman, Heath, had blond hair and green eyes like a tomcat. He was also quite tall, one of the tallest.

There was an African woman with wild, braided hair and a grin on her face that might almost look good-natured, if not for the cruel glint in her dark eyes. A young man, not too much older than Killian, looked vaguely familiar; he realized it was the one who had accompanied Dais when they'd identified Killian and Nohano as Torrent and Wildfire. There was brown-haired boy yet younger than most of the Ronin, peering at the group through blue eyes, and a tall, Italian man with cropped, black hair, and a grim visage.

Killian's attention was brought back to Talpa when Demetrius spoke aloud. "What do you want?" he asked in careful English. His tone was mild, his face impassive, but Killian could feel his fear through the link. Demetrius was always the calm one, quiet and adaptable, but the mind like was intimate, showing all to those who shared it. Killian hoped suddenly that this Talpa could not read what they sent to one another through it.

Talpa chuckled, a sound that made Killian shudder and clench his fists. "You mean your little friend here has not told you?"

He nodded to Tarun, and Killian looked at the boy, who scowled at having been singled out. "He says he wants to take over the world," said Tarun, scowling again, adding almost cheerfully, "But he won't."

Killian was afraid the demon would retaliate in anger, but he only laughed again, and Killian wasn't sure if it was better. He glanced around the room, fear growing in his chest, but the only doors were well guarded by the warlords. They really were trapped! He turned back to Talpa, having no idea what to do. He wasn't exactly used to dealing with being the captive of a demon.

"So, young Ronin," said Talpa, sitting down in a strange looking throne-like chair that looked as if it were made of wicker, or bamboo, or some weird kind of Oriental-style material. "So you have donned the armor that countless others have born before you. Or at least two of you have: _Suiko_ and _Kongou_."

Killian blinked, wondering why those two words had not been translated, when Demetrius's sudden, comprehending voice came through the link. The Japanese names! Those are our armors!

Killian's eyes widened, and he looked back at Talpa, who looked—felt, really—smug. "So you have linked. I wondered if you had discovered that little gift. And the child, he links with you, also?"

The three youths exchanged glances, and Killian felt irritated on how he'd been manipulated into demonstrating their mind link. He didn't think the demon had "heard" them, but he'd clearly understood what was happening. He suspected his own expression probably went blank when he was linking.

Talpa stood once more, and Killian found himself taking a step back. Tarun did as well, though Demetrius stood his ground. "It would be unwise to refuse me what I want, brats," he hissed. "You and your friends have caused me and my warlords a great deal of trouble. They would be quite eager to be allowed to exact a little revenge for the little indignities you've inflicted on them."

'Clever,' Killian thought, trying not to let his hands shake. A true threat, and depreciation of their fighting abilities. "Little indignities", he'd called it.

"What is it you want to know?" asked Demetrius calmly, though Killian only just caught the tremor in his voice. Telepathically, he added, There's no reason not to tell him _some_ things. He doubtless knows a lot already, and if we are careful, we can tell him some things and leave out those important ones.

Killian only just kept from nodding in answer, sending back his acknowledgement mentally instead.

What happened next was almost too fast for Killian to catch. There was a flash of bright red light, a yell of pain from Demetrius, and the stocky Russian boy flew across the room to land in an awkward heap. Killian stared, shocked, and ran to him to see if he was hurt.

Tarun turned and looked furiously at Talpa, his fists clenched. "Hey!" he protested, and Killian looked up sharply. "You can't do that to my friend!"

Tarun, no! Killian sent urgently.

Talpa looked at the boy, the eye sockets of his mask flaring red. He did not move, but a moment later, Tarun had also flown across the room with a cry of pain, skidding nearly to the doors. He scrambled hastily away from Kale, at whose feet he had landed.

"Do not use your mind link here again!" Talpa hissed as Killian helped Demetrius up and Tarun shakily stood. "That is but a small taste of what I can do to you here in my realm."

"Cooperate, fools," uttered Jin Tanaka, "and it will go easier for you."

Killian began to shake, partly from fear, but more because his friends had been hurt. It was like that in the water chamber—every time the spirits advanced, draining them, sending deep, pulsing pain through them, Killian had felt his friends' pain almost as much as his own. It had always hurt him to witness suffering or pain, and to see it inflicted on his closest friends was ten times worse. Tarun wiped angrily at his eyes, and Killian put an arm around the boy.

"Then ask your questions," said Demetrius, his voice unsteady.

The interrogation was surprisingly brief. Talpa asked them if those with newly-created armor could use the mind link, and Killian said that they could. This seemed to confirm something for Talpa, because he was pleased at the information. He asked what the armors' capabilities were, which puzzled Killian; he already was familiar with five of them—they'd once belonged to him--kind of. Still, they told him the basic abilities of the armor, such as Tarun's speed and Demetrius's strength, and Nohano's skill and power over fire and Suisei's ability to sense life forms. They mentioned Xan's shield and concealment powers and Killian said the Torrent armor let him breathe underwater and move as if on land. Those power he didn't know, such as Rashida and Amaya's, he said as much. Killian was very careful not to mention anything he didn't think Talpa already knew.

When Talpa asked where the original armors had been hidden, none of the prisoners could say; they had not the slightest clue. It wasn't even something Killian had thought about. Talpa asked them who had created the new armors, and where he might be found, and Killian lied and said he didn't know. He'd found his orb in the ocean, and Demetrius in the earth. Tarun lied and said he'd found his when exploring the woods near his home. Talpa asked them where the other Ronin were hiding, but none of them knew; the last they had seen of their friends had been right before they'd all been flung to the four corners of the world.

Talpa did not seem to disbelieve them at any point, and did not press the questions that were unanswered. Killian was relieved, though very surprised; he wasn't sure if Talpa had means of knowing if they were telling the truth or not. He should have known it wouldn't be so easy.

"So," said Talpa finally, slowly pacing in front of his throne. "You know so very little of your armor. How is it your friends have managed to defeat my warlords in battle?"

Fed up with the entire thing, Killian's answer was perhaps not wise, but it sure felt good to say. "I dunno, mate," he said. "Maybe your warlords can't fight."

Tarun giggled gleefully at the insult, and Demetrius grimaced, but the sounds of rage from behind them told Killian the warlords had not been amused in the slightest. Talpa turned on his heel to glare daggers at Killian, who found himself taking a step back despite his resolve. Talpa did not speak to them, only looked to his elder warlords. "You three; you will question them. Separate them; use whatever means necessary. But do not kill them. Understood?"

"_What?"_ Tarun exclaimed, the grin wiped from his face. He shook his head, eyes wide, stepping back as Kale, Dais, and Sekhmet stepped forward. Killian suddenly knew the boy was about to do something rash. "No way—stay away from me! _Armor of Daybreak!"_

'Oh crap,' Killian thought as the Daybreak armor was summoned, and Talpa's warlords tensed, several raising their weapons. He darted forward to grab the boy, but there was nothing that could catch him when he was armored up. Tarun let a yell and hurled one of his whiz-bangs with his sling, narrowly missing Kale, who'd made a grab for the boy.

Things went downhill quickly from there. Three of the warlords ran forward to subdue Tarun, and Killian and Demetrius both summoned their armor. Petrified that he'd have to watch one of his friends die, Killian dove in front of a furious attack from Jin Tanaka's katana at Tarun's head, blocking the blade with his _yari_, the strange trident that was a part of his Torrent armor.

Ten against three were not good odds, even without Talpa's interference. But when he cast his dark energy, his painful lightning attack, they had no chance whatsoever. At the same time, several of the warlords cried out in Japanese, words that Killian did not understand.

The room suddenly went dark and cold, black lightning sparking across the entire chamber. Killian stopped for a moment, desperately willing his eyes to adjust to the dark, when something encircled his ankle. He gave a yell, hacking at whatever it was with his _yari_, casting sparks into the dark room. He heard a snarl from Demetrius and a yowl of unhappy indignation from Tarun. The thing around his ankle gave a sudden yank, and Killian was on his back, only just keeping hold of his weapon.

To his horror, more things encircled his body, criss-crossing over his armor and binding him flat to the floor. Chains, he realized numbly; they were chains! One of those bloody, miserable warlords had summoned chains! And something else covered him then, something that constricted around his body, squeezing his armor tightly to his muscles. He groaned as it tightened yet more, crushing into his ribs and around his head...

"Enough," hissed the voice of Talpa. "Kale."

No sooner was the name spoken than the dim, deathly blue light returned, no longer blotted out by Kale's magic. Killian looked desperately around, able to see his two friends had also been bound to the floor, and in considerable discomfort from the look on their faces.

Dais—the spider warlord—the webs! Demetrius gasped through the link.

He was right; the strands squeezing his armor were the webs of spiders, streaming from Kale's scythes. Killian winced briefly, expecting Talpa to retaliate for the use of the link, but either he hadn't noticed or didn't care. The demon looked down on the bound Ronin, exuding hatred, then looked up and nodded. Killian watched helplessly as Kale reached down and removed Tarun's helmet (Tarun protested loudly) and struck the boy on the head with the hilt of his sword. Tarun's body went limp and his eyes closed.

"You bastard!" spat Killian, wrenching his body, futilely trying to escape the chains and the web. He cried out as they tightened painfully, clenching his teeth as the sound of several quiet cracks. For a moment he could concentrate only on his predicament, scarcely breathing until the web loosened just a little. He turned his head to watch Demetrius being dragged out, still wrapped in chains, by Sekhmet and Heath, then looked up as Dais loomed over him.

The chains left, but the painful webbing remained tightly bound around his body, and Killian had the sudden, clear image of being a small insect, wrapped within the web of some malevolent spider, waiting to be devoured for supper. "The more you fight, the tighter the webs will be," the man said with considerable calm.

Killian stilled and found he was right; the pain lessened greatly. He glanced once around to see that most of the warlords remained in the chamber, waiting to be dismissed, or perhaps simply enjoying the show. Killian looked up, shaking and took in a deep breath and clenching his teeth at the deep pain it sent through his sides. 'Cracked,' he thought. 'Cracked ribs. Damn!'

"Nothing to say?" inquired Dais mildly.

"What the bloody hell is there to say?" Killian snarled. "You bloody cowards have the advantage. But I swear, anything you do to that kid I'll get you back for tenfold!"

Dais laughed, truly amused at Killian's threat, but Killian didn't care. He'd meant it with every fiber of his being, and he would find a way! "You amuse me, boy," said Dais, reaching down and severing the webs' connection with the stone floor. He grabbed Killian and tossed him roughly over his shoulder, and another spike of pain went through his torso. Killian spent several moments mentally swearing as he was carried, helpless, from the chamber.


	30. Recovery

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 30: Recovery**

Cold. That was the only thing in Nohano's mind, the only thing he could remember. Cold...he remembered pain, but the cold was the most important thing. The cold numbed his body, slowed his mind, made his limbs clumsy. He remembered falling, remembered half-conscious sensations of damp, frigid snow, of the horrid chill sinking slowly into his muscles. He couldn't move, couldn't summon enough consciousness to get out of the snow, and the energy of his armor was fading...

The warmth puzzled him as he began to wake, his surroundings coming into focus bit by bit. The warmth was first, radiating in front of him, thawing his shivering body. The exhaustion was next, so profound that even lying still almost seemed unbearably taxing. Voices came to him next, familiar voices, talking of the Nether Realm and of Talpa.

Rashida's voice suddenly spoke as sight and sound began more rapidly to become clear to Nohano. "He's waking."

Finally, Nohano could open his eyes, blinking in the bright lights, looking down in confusion at the blanket that was wrapped around his body. "Huh?" he managed to articulate.

"Easy," said Rashida, kneeling down beside the strange cot Nohano lay in. She lay a hand on his chest, telling him to hold still for a moment. He did, bewildered, until she took her hand away and smiled. "No more injuries," she said to him. "I had worried I might have missed something. How do you feel?"

"Cold." Nohano didn't want to try and puzzle things out just yet. He just wanted to find the heat source and crawl into it. It turned out to be an industrial-sized oven, which only added to Nohano's confusion, but he didn't much care. Shaking, he crawled from his cot onto the open door of the oven, creeping inside and curling up. He felt only a moment of searing heat before his riot gear coalesced automatically around him, converting the dangerous heat into energy and comfort.

Nohano noticed distractedly that four of his friends were in the room, a kitchen of some sort, and that they all looked rather taken aback. Nohano closed his eyes and sighed as his shivering abated almost immediately, and the warmest contentment settled over him.

The surprise left Rashida's face then, and she gazed down at him with amusement etched into her face. "Better?"

Nohano nodded, lying his head down onto his bent arm. He knew he must look absolutely insane, curled up in an oven, but he didn't care. "What happened?" he finally asked, as Rashida sat down in an uncomfortable looking chair.

"Wow," said Xander, barking a stressed-sounding laugh. "That's a hell of a question. Better hold onto your hair for this one."

'Damn,' Nohano thought. That wasn't an encouraging answer.

And so the story was told. Nohano learned of how Xan had fought with Tai Shuang, and of how Amaya had escaped her two attackers by discovering a powerful gift of her armor; teleportation. She told of how Yasuo's presence in her mind had guided her to it, and of how she had found Xan, helping him back to San Francisco.

He learned of Suisei's fight with Venom—Sekhmet—and how he'd managed to defeat him with a lucky arrow shock wave strike. Rashida related her adventure in the labyrinthine caves, and the healing ability she had discovered, and of how Amaya had gone after Nohano, bringing him back nearly dead.

Suisei saved you, she said. He seems to be able to bring someone back from the brink of death.

Learning he had nearly died was unnerving, to say the least. Beginning to shake again, he looked out at Suisei, who was smiling at Nohano in a fond sort of way. Nohano didn't know how to put into words his gratitude, staring at Suisei for several moments before using the link: Thanks, Comet. The words were simple and inadequate, but the gratitude Nohano sent through the link was great, as great as Nohano could make it.

It seemed to have worked. Suisei came over and put a hand on Nohano's shoulder (only briefly; his riot gear was searing hot), and replied, Anytime, little brother.

"Little brother" sounded very odd to Nohano, who'd never had any siblings except for a few foster brothers, and he'd not grown close to any of them. It was sudden, too, coming from Suisei, and he had the feeling that a whole lot had happened among his four friends during his absence. "And this place?"

"A public shelter," said Suisei. "There wasn't anyone here, but it seems to be beyond the influence of the Dynasty. The electrical stuff works, anyway. It's as safe a place as we could find."

Nohano suddenly frowned. "Where're the others?" Certainly if Nohano managed to win his fight, the others would have, easily, wouldn't they? Nohano certainly wasn't the best fighter among them!

No one smiled, then, and no one answered for a few moments. Amaya sighed quietly. "We think the Dynasty has them."

"_What?"_ Nohano exclaimed. He lurched up, cracking his head into the ceiling of the oven, and yelling in pain. He cursed at it, climbing out and rubbing his head. Rashida winced and motioned him to sit down, but he was having none of it. "The Dynasty! How? Why do you think they---how do you know?"

"We don't," said Suisei. "But wherever they are, Amaya couldn't get to them. They can't possibly be on Earth still."

Nohano's knees suddenly felt shaky, and he sat down hard on his cot, wincing at the smell of half-melted vinyl. He stood quickly, stumbling over to the oven and sitting on the stone floor in front of it. He listened to what had happened when Amaya tried to teleport to Killian, Demetrius, and Tarun, how it had physically blocked her, sending her violently back.

"I am certain they're alive," said Amaya finally.

"They'd better be alive!" Nohano snarled. "We've got to go after them—and woe to any jerk that tries to stop me!"

Amaya sighed again, and Rashida shook her head. "We cannot, yet, Nohano." When Nohano opened his mouth to voice a furious protest, Rashida held up a hand, switching to mind speech. We don't even know how to get to the Dynasty. Amaya had information we can use at our house. We must find a way there—and you must recover—before we can launch an assault.

Nohano stared, unable to believe it. It wasn't what he wanted to hear; he wanted to charge in there, _now,_ he wanted to pound those rotten, loathsome, wretched jerk-offs into the ground! "Are you insane? We can't just—just leave them there! What if they've been hurt? What if Talpa kills them? What if--"

"Nohano, think!" Amaya hissed, impatience and urgency both in her tone. "You can barely stand, you wouldn't stand a chance!"

Anger flared at the girl's words, true as they might be, but Nohano didn't get a chance to reply. Suisei suddenly knelt in front of him, one hand on Nohano's head, looking at him with nothing but concern on his face. "Easy, little brother. We will get them out. They've got Tarun, remember? There's no way I would ever, _ever_ leave him any longer than I absolutely had to."

Nohano blinked; it was easy to forget things like that sometimes in the blazing sheet of anger. But it went against everything at Nohano's core not to leave right that very minute to rescue.

He didn't answer them, sitting on the stone floor with his fists clenched, wanting so badly to argue, and knowing he could not. Eventually—far longer than it would have been if Killian had been there—Nohano did calm enough to listen to reason; they were right, and he knew they were, no matter how much he hated it.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice soft and unhappy. "Okay. Just...just tell me what we gotta do."

First on the list was to retrieve Amaya's belongings. The apartment was halfway across the city from the shelter, and they obviously couldn't use any motor vehicles, which meant they'd have to go there on foot. "It will take half the day," she grouched.

I don't see any alternative, said Rashida. We can get your things and be back by nightfall, and plan from there.

"Yes," sighed Amaya. "I know. But I do not like it much."

"There'll probably be a metric ass ton of those Dynasty soldiers, too," said Xander. "We'll have to avoid the jerks. We don't have time for a bunch of fights."

"Metric--" said Rashida, breaking off into a laugh, and even Nohano had to blink at that one. "The more interesting English words I hear from you."

Xan snorted, looking amused. "Yeah, I'm a font of crude terminology," he agreed.

"Nohano, I think you should stay behind for this," said Suisei cautiously. Nohano turned on him, his smile fading, indignation heating his face. "I know...I know," said Suisei. "I wouldn't be too thrilled, either. But you'll want to be in the best condition possible to fight the Dynasty when the time comes. You nearly died today, my friend. And you're suffering from a severe bout of hypothermia according to Rashida. And blood loss...look at you, you're shivering again."

Nohano looked down at himself and bit his lip, feeling suddenly feeble. How pathetic could he get? He suddenly felt the urge to cry, though he wasn't sure why. He never really stopped to think about the fear, or the pressure, or the other million things that seemed to come with being a warrior. But he felt the effects, even if he couldn't identify them.

"This is a no-brainer mission anyway," said Xander. "You wouldn't be missing much. You can warm up like the insane lava lizard you are--"

Nohano burst into a surprised guffaw, putting his forehead down on his knees. Xander was right, really. He _was_ insane—he felt it—and the whole world had gone insane, too. He took a big breath and looked up, sighing, but capitulating. He still didn't like it. He wasn't someone who could just...stand by and let someone else put themselves in danger. He didn't like hiding out and waiting to hear what happened. Even if it was a "no brainer".

"Next, we will need to find a computer," said Amaya.

"Our apartment's not too far from yours," said Suisei. "If...if it's not wrecked, we can get my laptop. If not, I'm sure there are some computers down here. Why do you need one?"

"Well, I have papers of my information. But there is more to be found on the Internet. And...and I will try and contact my family, in Japan."

Nohano blinked, staring for a moment, as Amaya talked about contacting her family. Was that even possible? In the middle of the destruction and the desertion of the city, it was almost impossible to imagine there were people all over the world living their lives like they always had. Maybe they weren't as isolated as they had thought!

"Then what?" asked Xan.

"Then we find out how we get to the Nether World," said Nohano, climbing back into the oven. "That's what you said it was called, right, Amaya?"

"Yes. Nether World, it is Arago's domain."

"Right. We'll need to pack provisions, I guess. How long does it take to get there?"

Amaya shook her head darkly. "I do not know. Most of the legend is shrouded in mystery, though I do have stories from my great grandfather. He got into the Nether Realm once, but I never thought I would have to do so. But...but if we can contact my grandmother, she may know more."

"Sure wish your great-grandfather was alive," Xan muttered. "We greenhorns could use the help from someone who knows what he's doing!"

Everyone laughed a little in appreciation. "All right, then," said Suisei. "We should leave now. Nohano, we'll keep in contact through the mind link as much s we can—it'll be a good test as to just how far it goes, at any rate. We'll be back before sundown."

"Yeah, we hope," said Xan, and Suisei shot him a look.

Nohano watched them stand, feeling very unhappy. "Well, be careful," he said, trying not to sound too sulky. "Kick someone's ass for me on the way, huh?"

"Damn straight," said Xan with a crooked grin. "I'm all for that. Just wait for one of those jerks to start something with me."

"Just so long as the warlords don't come after us," said Suisei. "We'll be fine."

"Oh, great," said Xan. "Just jinx us, will you?"

"Just call me Jinx Kyoto," agreed Suisei cheerfully.

Nohano knew what was behind the levity; they were just as scared as he was. He watched them all leave, saying goodbye to him each in their own way—a casual wave from Xander, a slight bow from Amaya, and an almost hand on the shoulder from Suisei. I think I'd rather not burn my hand off, he chuckled through the link. Nohano smiled a bit, and when Rashida had told him to rest or face her wrath when she returned, Nohano was alone.

He fought a moment of panic once he heard the heavy doors above the facility bang shut. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, he crept out of the oven, turned it off, and climbed the stairs to latch the door shut, mentally telling the others he'd done so. Let me know when you're close, he said, and I'll unlock it.

'Rashida was right,' Nohano thought irritably, sitting down near the closed door. Weariness tugged at him from climbing the eight-zillion stairs that led to the doors. 'I'm in no condition to fight.' He frowned at the stairs, and then looked at the ramp that he assumed was for wheelchair use. He wished suddenly that he had a skateboard or rollerblades—that would make getting down far easier! As it was, he had to walk.

Nohano found he hadn't the energy to think about the Dynasty's realm just then, no matter how great his worry. He knew so little about the place that it wouldn't do him any good, anyway. He hoped the others were able to find Amaya's notes so they'd at least have something to go off of. He crept into a cot and surrounded himself with three blankets.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He was wakened several hours later by a sudden mental shout. He sat bolt upright, his heart suddenly pounding, and "listened" for what was happening. Amaya?

Soldiers! came the blunt reply. She sounded furious, and Nohano suddenly almost felt sorry for the soldiers. Amaya angry was a frightening thing!

We're all right, said Suisei a few minutes later, as Nohano sat, listening and worrying. They caught us by surprise, but we took care of them. The good news is that we've gotten to Rashida and Demetrius and Amaya's apartment. It's mostly intact, though there's no one still here. But we're gonna grab some belongings.

Okay, cool, said Nohano, lying back with relief. Damned soldiers. No warlord sightings, I take it?

Suisei's mental voice chuckled. Nope. None yet, anyway. You know, I wonder how they know to find us.

Beats me, said Nohano. Maybe we'll find out.

Nohano's stomach rumbled suddenly with hunger, and he realized he had not eaten in a very long time. He went back into the kitchen, searching the entire chamber until he found the food stores. Pleased, he snagged a hunk of meat from the cryo-storage bins, some canned vegetables, and a can of fruit. He fixed himself a large lunch and ate until he felt full.

The food gave him a brief surge of energy, and he decided he wanted to check out the facility. It really was a cool base of operations; there was food enough for decades if they ever needed it for that long (Nohano hoped to God that wasn't the case), and beds enough to house a hundred people or more. He found a sort of control room, where there were several computers and files and the like. A switchboard of some kind and phones, too.

There was a nursery with cribs and baby toys, and a playroom obviously for older children. There were also a few classrooms. There were bathrooms and showers, and Nohano made use of both, washing his filthy clothing and sitting in front of the ovens to dry off. His clothes he wrung out and hung nearby.

When he was clean and dry, Nohano lay down in the cot his friends had put him in, basking in the warmth and occasionally talking with his friends through the mind link. He knew they were several miles away, and the link was as strong and easy to maintain as ever. It was a highly useful thing, that mind link! It certainly made being alone a lot less miserable.

He fell asleep once more before his friends came back, and woke to Suisei's mental voice, overly cheerful and highly amused. Hey, rise and shine, Morning Glory...time to waaake!

Nohano, however, was not amused. He was never the type to enjoy great amounts of cheer when he'd been woken up. What?

Suisei laughed. Maybe it should be Morning Grouch, hmm? Nohano grunted. Anyway, we're at the front gates. Come unlock the door, willya?"

Oh yeah. Nohano told Suisei that he would, and hauled himself out of his cot. Mentally slapping himself awake, he climbed the exhausting flight of stairs and lifted the heavy latch that barred the doors. He was a little surprised to see that all four of his friends had backpacks on, and that Xan's looked awfully familiar. "Hey, isn't that Killian's?" he asked as they reached the door and filed through.

"Yeah," said Xander, smiling a bit. "We decided to surprise you and bring back some of yer stuff. We hit our apartment and Suisei's." His smile faded. "Suisei's wasn't accessible, though. The whole building's collapsed."

"Jeez...sorry, Suisei."

Suisei shook his head. "It's all right," he said. "We may be able to get under the rubble and retrieve some of our things later. But for now we don't have the time."

"You look much better," said Rashida as she latched the door and the group made their way back downstairs. "You're not so pale."

"I _feel_ a lot better," agreed Nohano. "I ate and slept, mostly. I showered, too."

"That's not a bad idea," murmured Suisei. "We've not gotten a chance to bathe."

"I did find computers," Nohano said. "There's all sorts of stuff here. It really is meant for people to live in for years if they have to."

"It's s scary thought," said Amaya, shivering a little bit as she set her backpack on a cot and opened it up.

Nohano sat next to Xander, curious as to what he'd brought, and watched him take things out. He'd brought changes of clothing for himself and Nohano, and one for Killian as well. "He'll probably want it when we get him back," Xander explained. He'd brought a couple of Nohano's books, and the Nintendo Centurion's portable attachment, as well as a few games.

"Awesome!" said Nohano, briefly hugging Xander in thanks. "Hey—you brought one of my drums, too. Cool." He took up the hand-held drum and the stick that went with it, and smiled a little sadly. He remembered Robert, and hoped that the rest of the guys had made it out of the city. Or at least to a secure hiding place.

"All right," said Amaya, pulling out several notebooks. "I say we get some supper cooking and go over these notes."


	31. Into the Dragon's Den

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 31: Into the Dragon's Den**

For the next five hours, the five Ronin pored over the many notes and pages of information Amaya had brought from her belongings. Aside from all the information about the armors themselves—they knew most of that already, anyway—there were other, more obscure things. "I don't have much," said Amaya after they'd all eaten a quick dinner. "Only these three pages. And it is all weird. This page is what the legend said—a fence with no stone and a moat with no water."

"Oh, that's useful," said Xander, rolling his eyes.

Nohano was surprised that Amaya did not become offended; in fact she nodded her head grimly. "I know. It is in riddle form. I think if we see it, we will know."

Rashida was the most intrigued of all of them, Nohano noted without much surprise. She was insane that way; she liked puzzles and riddles, and even enjoyed filling out those logic problems in the puzzle books. That is the way to the Nether Realm? she asked.

"Yes. There are gates, but I do not think we can use them unless they are opened from their side of the...barrier. I think there is a barrier to their..."

"Dimension?" Suisei suggested.

"Yes. Yes, a dimension. It is a different dimension. We may be able to pass through the fence. If the fence is the barrier."

Nohano scanned over the other two pages of written notes, but was irritated to find it was written in Japanese. 'Of course it's in Japanese,' he thought. 'Idiot, that's her language!' "So what's all this, then?"

"Well, this is from my grandmother's stories. She said Sanada Ryo and the other Ronin of that time got through to the Nether World two different way. One way we cannot use. Talpa's palace had..." She struggled to find the word, then flashed into mental speech. The Ancient One sacrificed himself to create a bridge, a great whirlwind that reached Talpa's palace. But the palace had solidified, materialized in the air. Not the mirror image that hangs over the city now. The second way was through a wall of black fog.

That may be our fence or moat, said Rashida, grinning. A fence without stone Fog sounds like a good barrier, wouldn't you say?

"Definitely," said Xander with a grin. Nohano laughed a little; Xan used gray fog as his own barrier, so the idea wasn't as crazy as it seemed.

"But how did he find it?" Asked Suisei.

That part is here, said Amaya. It was where the great red gates stand. The ones that tower over the skyscrapers.

I don't remember seeing a gate, said Rashida with a frown. I'd remember a gate that tall, I think!

Well...that's what Grandmother said, said Amaya, sounding frustrated. Nohano, where were the computers? I must try and contact Grandmother. She would help a great deal!

Oh yeah, the computers! Excited at the idea of having contact with the outside world, Nohano stood and led the way to the little control room area he had found. "I don't guess the phones'll work," he said, thoughtfully. "The phone lines are above ground. The damned Dynasty will have screwed them all up." He picked up one of the receivers, grimacing at a sudden shriek of static, and slammed the phone hastily back into its wall niche. "Yyyyeah."

"Luckily the computers no longer use phone lines," said Xan, turning one of the units on and watching it boot up.

"Did they ever?" asked Amaya.

"Yep! When they were first invented, they used what they called 'modems'. They sorta tapped into the phone line—you had to use an old-fashioned phone jack, not like the normal cable phones—and you used the phone line. Man, they were slow as molasses. My mom had an antique computer. Still worked, too!"

"Bet that was weird," said Nohano, watching as Xander's fingers flew over the keyboard of the little computer he sat at. "All right. Well...let's see if we can get through."

It did not take long to realize that the computer was going to be of very little use. They couldn't connect with the Internet at all, no matter what Xan tried.

"Guess the cables are too close to the surface," said Suisei glumly.

Undaunted, Xander seemed to be getting into the files of the system, searching for any kind of archives, but found very little. "Most of it is on running this facility," said Xander. "Maintenance schedules, food stores lists...that kind of thing. Ya know--someone needs to publish a book: Dynasty for Dummies."

Everyone cracked up. Stressed, scared, and frustrated, he found himself laughing almost hysterically as he imagined picking that book up at the local bookstore. "Chapter one," he said, "Recognizing a Dynasty warlord."

"Item one," said Suisei, "they arrive in a showy flash of lightning."

Item two, giggled Rashida, They dress in metal animal costumes.

No one could come up with much more than that. Even Amaya had to sit down, her laughter only slowly tapering. Xander shook his head and shut the computer down, wiping at his eyes. "Jeez. We've all lost our damned minds, you do realize this?"

"Yeah," said Nohano with a sigh. "At least it's not boring."

"Well—so what do we do?" asked Suisei. "We've gone over this stuff dozens of times. Do we just—go out and _look_ for the damned gates?"

Nohano nodded slowly. "You know," he said, "that might just be what we have to do. Tomorrow. Tonight...we should all get some sleep." He hated saying it. The last thing he wanted to do was to rest and sleep, but they'd be no use falling down with exhaustion.

Nohano did not sleep easily that night. For the first time since he'd woken in front of the stove, he thought about his battle. It had been terrifying and exhilarating. It had even been fun, at times, even counting the injuries he'd taken. But then he remembered Dais's taunt, of how Tarun was in Talpa's grasp. He swallowed hard, curling up on his cot, trying not to imagine the boy caught in some deep, dark dungeon cell, with rats and chains, and...

Nohano took a big breath and closed his eyes, but he did not dream well.

---

The next morning, everyone but Nohano went out on a search mission to locate a gate, and, hopefully, a fence. They came back that night, tired and dispirited, finding no sign of either.

It wasn't until the next afternoon that they stumbled upon the fence of fog; Nohano was lying on a cot, staring morosely at the ceiling, when a sudden, jubilant shout echoed in his head. He leapt out of the cot onto his feet, his heart pounding. You scared the hell out of me!

It was Rashida. Sounding less than repentant, she only laughed and told him he should have been more alert. We found the gate! she exclaimed before Nohano could retort. It's obscured in this damned fog—we know right where it is. We're heading back now. We can get ready tonight and be off tomorrow morning.

Not very patient at the best of times, Nohano scowled. We should leave before that, he said. It's not that late, if we can get back th...er, where is it, anyway?

Xander's voice broke in then. Forget that, man, we're half a day away from the shelter. It'll be night by the time we get back. And we gotta gear up and everything. But we know where it is, now. We'll get up early, and be ready to roll.

Nohano sighed unhappily, and sent back his reluctant agreement. He didn't want Xander to be right; he wanted to rush out right that second!

Annoyed, Nohano turned his gaze to the backpacks they'd brought back the other day from their apartment raids; they would come in extremely handy for their trip. They'd have to bring food, of course, and water. He was wondering just how long a trip it would be, when he remembered the nightmare he'd had, so many weeks earlier. A nightmare about a barren realm, full of spirits and evil. He remembered the mountain and the valley beyond the mountain, and realized with sudden horror that was where they meant to go. "Oh, my God," he whispered. "We're walking into a nightmare. Literally."

He told the others when they returned what he had realized, and none of them were any happier about it than he was. "Guess we'll be out there a few days, huh?" asked Xander, sighing.

"Possibly," said Nohano. "I dunno how close we'll be to those mountains. Amaya...do you think you can teleport once we're actually in the realm? Teleport and get Tarun and the others out that way?"

Amaya looked doubtful, and did not answer for a few moments. Finally she admitted that she didn't know. "It's possible," she said. "But the entire realm might be blocking my powers. I guess we'll find out once we get in there."

"So," said Rashida. "We should make a list of what we must bring." The most organized of the lot, she went about writing down a neat list of all the supplies they would need for a trip into the Nether Realm.

"Nice field trip," said Xander dryly. "This is bloody fantastic. I bet my old boy scout troop would love this camping trip."

"Into suicidal outings, are they?" asked Suisei.

Xander laughed. "Yeah, actually. The more danger the better. My Scoutmaster went gray in the few years he led us."

"That figures!" said Suisei with a rueful laugh. While they were compiling their list, Nohano brought out the radio they'd found the previous day and turned it on. He'd been listening to it on and off, trying to figure out what was happening. The news hadn't been encouraging.

The frightening pall over San Francisco seemed to be spreading, from the main metro area into the suburbs and outskirts. Everyone from the surrounding area and nearest towns and cities had been evacuated, and the military set at the borders of the stormy influence, in hopes of stopping the terrifying power. They were ready to evacuate those living yet further out if need be.

As Nohano listened, there was nothing he hadn't already heard at least, which was good news. It meant nothing new—worse—had happened.

He switched off the radio and joined in the planning.

Before the Ronin were ready to sleep, they had put together five backpacks of supplies. At first there weren't enough packs to go around, but some had been found in one of the various storerooms of the shelter, and they were far sturdier than a couple of the ones they already had.

"Should we even bring matches?" asked Xander at one point, looking sideways at Nohano and holding a box of waterproof ones.

"Might as well," said Nohano. "Just in case." It was an easy task for him to create a fire, but there was always the chance he might not be available when needed. The point was well taken, and Xander tossed the matches in.

The packs were filled before they went to bed, and they felt they were as ready as they ever would be.

---

When morning came, Nohano felt that his strength was back to normal. He'd spent a lot of time in front of (or in) the oven, vowing to find out if there was an incinerator somewhere in the shelter. That would be great for quick energy boosts.

Everyone summoned their riot gear, strapping the backpacks on and making sure that they had everything. Nohano took a big breath and looked up towards the door. "Well," he said. "Let's go." He was nervous, but he was also excited. No matter how frightened he was or worried about his friends, he couldn't deny the exotic excitement of the adventure.

Rashida led the group back to where they had discovered the strange fog and the partially hidden gate, which was in a section of downtown San Francisco. The buildings here had fared no better than in the bay area, Nohano was rather dispirited to notice.

The gate itself, however, was a wonder, and Nohano peered up at it for a good minute, blinking at its enormity. The oriental-style red door extended dozens of meters into the air, taller than any building in the city. "Wow."

"Yeah," said Xan. "And take a look at that creepy-ass fog."

Nohano looked around and saw Xander was right; it looked more like black smoke than fog, and drifted eerily in place. It really did look like a fence, and the red door was the gate in the fence. "What about the moat?" he wondered.

We don't know if the fog is the moat or the fence, said Rashida. Either way...

"Yeah, I guess it really doesn't matter. Well...okay. Let's try and get this gate open, first."

The five youths all approached the door, placing their hands carefully on its smooth surface. Taking a big breath, Nohano counted off to three. On the last count, he shoved against the door with all his might, straining his muscles until they shook. Groans and grunts of effort from his friends told him they were giving it their all, too, but the gate did not budge.

"It's no use," said Suisei, panting and leaning against the door.

"Friggin' Dynasty really needs to learn about doorknobs," Xander growled, glaring up at the gate. "Damn."

Nohano sighed, glancing again at the black fog. It gave him an awful feeling, and he was reluctant to walk into it. "All right, guys," he said. "Armor up. This isn't something I just want walk in to. Armor up and have your weapons at the ready. That fog gives me the creeps."

Nohano set his backpack down, stepping back and calling out for his Armor of Wildfire. The others called out to their armor, Halo, Strata, Night, and Twilight. Once everyone was in their full armor and with weapons ready, they put their backpacks on, adjusted for the larger size. Shaking his head at how weird they all looked, Nohano stepped in through the unnatural, flat surface of the fog.

The first tendrils went almost unnoticed by Nohano, slithering sneakily about his ankles. But when he was grabbed up by the leg and flung him several meters away with a scream of surprise, he definitely noticed! He scrambled to his knees, then to his feet, recoiling in shock from what seemed to be phantoms or poltergeists, looming in and out of the fog, perhaps even made of the fog itself. Wispy, black limbs shot out of the black, seeking his eyes, grabbing him around the arms and legs.

The fog thickened until Nohano thought it must suffocate him, even as he grabbed for his katana. His view of his friends was cut off as he unleashed a short burst of fire from his blades, briefly cutting through the evil fog, breaking its hold on him. He got a brief glimpse of Rashida, bright light flashing from his nodatchi, driving back the fog, and Xander with a shield around himself, sprinting for what Nohano hoped was the direction of the Nether World..

Nohano yelled as another of the horrid beasts grabbed his throat, and awkwardly cut at it with the katana, very nearly cutting his own skin getting the fog from his neck. He sprinted away from the creature towards his friends, not all of whom were doing as well as he and Rashida were. Amaya, who had nothing resembling a power attack, could not fight the beasts off with her nunchaku, and Suisei sailed by Nohano even as he watched, landing with a clatter of metal on the asphalt.

Rashida drove the fog back from Amaya with a bright flash of light, stooping hastily to help her up, and Nohano went after Suisei, who was fighting with several of the hideous phantasms. Disgusted, Nohano conjured a fistful of fire, waving the flame around him, clearing the black fog. The phantoms, wisps of fog with eerie, red, glowing eyes, recoiled with seething glares of hatred.

Nohano wasn't sure how they did it, harassed, detained, and rerouted by the silent beasts, but the five of them finally broke out of the fog, spilling out onto strangely warm ground. Nohano and Suisei were clutching one another's arms to keep together, and Xander had Amaya within his energy shield. Rashida had her blade out, the last of them to appear, suddenly lurching out of the fog.

Except there was no fog.

"What the hell?" uttered Xan, scowling with irritation.

Nohano let go of Suisei's arm, blinking and looking around, almost feeling his heart clenched as he realized. The landscape was bleak, dotted with a pitiful smattering of strange trees, the spiky forms of mountains looming in the distance. The air was warm, and smelled like a moldy mattress, and the strange sky above was dark, dotted with an amazing expanse of stars. But the sun was high in the sky.

"By the gods," Amaya whispered shakily.

Nohano knew the others felt it. Oppressive, stifling, an evil like no other. The entire land was tainted, foul, ruined by he who reigned over it.

"The Nether Realm," Rashida whispered, taking a deep breath and sheathing her longsword. "I never thought it could be this horrible."

Nohano did. He had been here once before, in his dreams, and he had wakened screaming. He turned to gaze in dismay at the mountains, knowing it was there they must go. "There's a valley there," he said, pointing at one of the taller peaks. "The whole thing is surrounded by mountains. There's a small passage through one of the mountains, a maze or something of caverns." Rashida muttered darkly, and Nohano knew she wasn't thrilled with another cavern labyrinth.

"How do you know?" asked Xan.

"Dreamed it," said Nohano briefly. "Fantastic. I never thought I would be visiting my nightmares...how many people in the world do you think have done that?"

Rashida laughed a little. "Not many."

Realizing that Suisei had been very silent, Nohano looked over at him, worried for a moment he had been hurt, but frowned a moment later in surprise at the expression of delighted fascination on his face. The older boy gazed at the sky, his eyes sweeping back and forth, eagerly taking in every detail of the alien constellations.

"Amazing," Suisei whispered. "It's magnificent, isn't it?"

Xander gaped at Suisei in bald astonishment, but Nohano finally had to laugh. Suisei had noticed nothing but the sky, as often happened. Nohano wondered if he even knew what the earth looked like sometime. "You wanna come back to Earth, Comet? Or...whatever the hell passes for 'earth' here."

Suisei looked slowly at Nohano, grinning like a child who has seen something new and fascinating. "This place is vile, Nohano, but look above us! Even the astronauts of Earth never saw a sight like this!"

"Oh, brother," Xander muttered, grabbing Suisei by the arm and dragging him away. "Come on, Buck Rogers. Or we'll never get there."

Suisei let himself be led off, but didn't take his gaze from the heavens. Nohano smiled ruefully, belatedly taking an inventory of who had been hurt (no one, not seriously), and what supplies they might have lost (none, fortunately). He shrugged at the others, then took off after Suisei and Xander, his eye out for trouble. They were alone—for now—but the warlords had a really nasty habit of showing up out of nowhere. Literally.


	32. Talpa's Dungeons

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 32: Talpa's Dungeons**

Killian sat against the wall, being as still as he could, boredom overcoming the fear that had crowded his mind. Dais hadn't done anything to him after dumping him in the little cell in some odd corner of Talpa's dungeon; he had simply tossed Killian on the ground (_that_ had hurt!) and left him there, sealing the cell door and leaving.

The webs had dissipated once Dais was gone, and Killian had the leisure to investigate his injuries. He was badly startled to realize his ribs were either broken or cracked—he wasn't exactly sure how he knew, but he did—and the first thing he had done was to sit down and not move. The last thing he needed was to make it worse. And besides, it didn't hurt nearly as much when he wasn't moving.

He worried about what would happen when Dais came back, but wondered why he had left to begin with. Was it intimidation? Leaving him to wonder what the miserable bastard was cooking up? If so, it was failing miserably; Killian was just grateful to be away from the horrible Nether Spirits. He shivered, thinking of the vile things. If they really wanted to torture him, all they had to do was leave him where he had been!

Of course he wasn't about to suggest it.

After a while, Killian very carefully lay down on the concrete, still in full armor, and closed his eyes. He did feel far safer in his armor, even if it made lying down uncomfortable, and as he and the others seemed to have been moved out of range for mental contact, he was feeling vulnerable and alone. 'Damned Nether Realm, cutting off our telepathy—wonder if Talpa did that.'

Not five minutes later, as if his thoughts had provoked it, a sudden mental shriek made him sit bolt upright, scarcely noticing the pain in his sides as he did. He felt his whole body go cold, recognizing the cry as Tarun's, and realizing it was a cry of pain. Whatever was happening, whatever Tarun was feeling so intensely that he was able to reconnect with Killian, he was being hurt badly.

Rage was the first thing that filled his mind, rage for whoever was hurting a ten year old boy. He cringed at another cry, and clenched his fists, closing his eyes and forcing himself to calm down. Shaking, he took a big breath and focused all of his concentration on Tarun, summoning the calm, blue comfort of warm, tropical waters. As he strengthened the mental link, he could feel Tarun's terror, almost as if it were his own, and realized the kid was considerable pain. The rage threatened again, but Killian forced it away, knowing that anger would only make it worse. He had to be calm, he had to comfort Tarun somehow, he had to do _something!_

Killian was not sure exactly what happened but the awful, traumatized emotions coming from Tarun's mind began to ebb, slowly calming into a mental equivalent of weeping, not screaming. Killian did not think that whatever was happening had stopped, but he had helped, somehow--made it less, or sent strength, or... Killian wasn't sure what he had done, but he intended to keep doing it, focusing all his spirit on easing Tarun's distress.

As Tarun began to calm, Killian started to catch mental glimpses of what had happened—what was still happening. Kale binding the kid to a table of some kind, of the woman Jin Tanaka being summoned to the chamber... They'd somehow gotten Tarun's armor off, leaving him in his kabaddi uniform, just a little kid lying there bound on the stone; without his armor, Tarun looked like any other child in the world. Killian began to shake again as Jin began to explain to Kale her methods of physical interrogation, how she mixed psychological and physical torture, of how pain was not enough; there had to be fear, also, and despair. Of how she preferred to cause physical damage, knowing that seeing the blood or looking at the broken bones added terror to the victim's suffering.

Suddenly there was a thin, burning sensation, the welling of blood across his chest, and a screech of surprised pain. A knife in Jin's hands, a pleased smile on Kale's face, a rush of fury and fear that Killian wasn't sure came from himself or Tarun. An almost gentle touch on his hand, the grasping of a finger before he could clench his fist, and a sickening crack. Killian clenched his teeth, feeling as if it had been his own finger snapped, listening, horrified, as Jin explained exactly what she was doing, of what happened to a bone when it broke, of the horrible complications that could happen with a poorly-tended injury. Knowing little of medicine, Killian had no idea how much of what she said was true or not, but it terrified him, true or not. He knew much of the fear was coming from Tarun, but it didn't stop him feeling it.

Four more times, four more snaps, Tarun's mental voice shrieking once again, and Killian clenched his fists, focusing once more on his power, fighting to ignore the horrible pain. Water. Soothing, healing calm. Warmth and safety. He found that as he worked on calming Tarun, trying desperately to ease the pain those bastards were inflicting, he was soothing his own pain and fear, even the pain from his ribs. The power was new to him, and he felt a sudden rush of gratitude for having discovered it, for both his and Tarun's sake.

It went on for longer than Killian would have thought it possible for a child to endure—even he was beginning to lose control of his fear. He didn't know how long his world had narrowed to only Tarun and himself—the same cycle repeated over and over: a sharp spike of pain and fear, the fight to regain the calm of the waters, and a lull of subdued weeping. He wasn't even sure anymore what they were doing to him. To them. He didn't even know how he was absorbing Tarun's pain, only that he was doing it.

Finally, after a span of five minutes with no new pain, he caught the echo of Jin murmuring that Tarun had had enough, and that they should quit for the day. That it did little good to go too far with a prisoner in physical interrogation, because it defeated the purpose. Kale had obviously agreed, because Killian got the distinct impression that Tarun was being moved, though he didn't risk losing his concentration to find for certain.

Killian felt like he could faint in relief. He was rapidly tiring, unwilling to break contact, staying with Tarun the entire way. He didn't know where the boy was taken, only that he wasn't bound. 'Probably in a bloody cell like I am,' he thought disgustedly.

Killian could almost see Tarun curled on the stone, sobbing, as he was left alone. He spent the next half hour comforting the boy, trying to ignore the throbbing in his hand and other places of injury, unwilling to leave Tarun to endure it alone. Tarun hadn't realized that Killian had mental contact with him, but he soon calmed enough to cease sobbing, and lie down on the stone. Tarun was more exhausted than Killian was, and no wonder; he'd been here for several hours longer, and had gone through a lot more. Tarun soon settled into sleep that was nearly unconsciousness.

Killian stayed "with" Tarun for several minutes after he felt the boy's mind ease into slumber, before slowly letting himself withdraw from contact. He felt his own strength ebbing, and realized his armor was low on energy. And so was he! But the pain faded almost immediately from the things Tarun had gone though, leaving Killian only with the ache in his sides and a sort of general soreness.

"I'll kill him," he whispered, banishing his main armor and reverting to the aqua blue riot gear. "I'll kill them both." "Appalled" did not begin to describe the horrible revulsion he felt that a grown adult could so deliberately torture anyone, much less a child. But he had seen the woman's cold calculation before, the wretched enjoyment she got from her victims' suffering. He'd seen it as she fought him, watching him struggle against the arid heat in the desert, against having no water in the searing sun, fighting to stay on his feet. And he'd seen how much Kale enjoyed beating down his enemies, and imagined he was pleased to exact revenge against Tarun for his harassment at the Renaissance Faire.

The young Ronin was badly startled at a noise outside his cell. Awkwardly wiping his eyes, only now noticing he had also wept, he scrambled to his feet, catching flash of pinkish metal from outside that told him Dais had returned. The loathsome warlord sat calmly outside the cell door on a stool, smiling at him, clad only in his own riot gear. Killian had the awful feeling he had been there for quite a while. "What do you want, you miserable ratbag?" Killian hissed, his fists clenched.

Dais smirked, amused rather than angry at the insult. "We soon will be brothers in arms, Killian of Torrent," he said. "You may hate me now, but it will change."

Of all the things Killian could have expected him to say, that was not it. It wasn't even close. "What?" he said blankly, staring. Surely he hadn't heard him right! Brothers in arms? With _Dais?_ Warlord of Illusion?

"You heard me," said Dais. "Surely you don't think you can hold out forever? Power corrupts, Torrent. It corrupts everyone—the power of your armor will overcome you. Think, boy. Your armor and mine are the same; they are all small parts of the same thing, all stemming from one armor. The hate, the rage and pain, they thrum through every piece that came from Master Talpa. Everyone succumbs to it eventually."

Killian stared at Dais, honestly wondering if he had lost his mind. "You've gone troppo, Dais," he said, shaking his head wonderingly, fear edging into his mind. Even Amaya had said that the Ancient hadn't been able to truly banish the evil from the armor, hadn't she? He shook his head violently. "You're mad. There's no way I'd ever become like you!"

Dais chuckled, setting the hairs on the back of Killian's neck on end. "No? I've watched you for the past forty-five minutes. It took me a good while to realize what you were doing, before understanding you were connected with your little friend as Kale and Jin tortured him." Killian felt his eyes go wide, and he clenched his fists. For some reason, this seemed to amuse Dais. "Look at yourself, Killian. You would cheerfully kill me as I stand, and want to rip Jin limb from limb. Am I right? Did you not feel hatred to the very core of your spirit as blood seeped across your young friend's skin?"

Killian had begun to shake, unable to deny the loathing, unable to argue Dais's accusations, not even wanting to. "Shut up," he uttered. "Shut your bloody mouth!"

"Why?" asked Dais mildly. "What you did for him, helping him with the pain, is not so different than what we have done among ourselves, using our mental bond to lend one another strength, to help them endure pain and fear...yes, we have a mental bond just as you have." He smirked as revulsion washed over Killian's expression. "Think about it. You sit within the Nether Realm, a land imbued with the anger and hatred of mankind. It's human nature, boy, to hate. Look."

Killian did, narrowing his eyes.

Dais stood, standing back, and somehow managing to summon his armor without speaking. The pink metal covered his body, splashes of dark green on his arms and legs, the strange scythe face extending behind him. "How different am I now?" came the distorted voice from behind the insect-like mask. "Look at the weapon on my back; do you not bear a similar weapon? Even down to the mask, young Torrent. You may not wear it all the time, but it is there. And what of this?" Dais pitched his voice nearly an octave higher, an uncanny imitation of Killian's Australian dialect: "Super Wave Smasher!"

Killian felt his cheeks heat up as he was imitated, giving Dais a filthy look. "What...what about it?" he finally asked, unable to help it. "I use that attack to protect people!"

Dais laughed again, eerie behind the metal mask, and shook his head. "Have you never seen the destruction it can cause? Have you never seen its power smash walls, throw bodies with the force of a cannonball? Water is not a nice thing. It has killed millions of people over the ages. It is used as a murder weapon, it drowns those who sail it, and even those who merely live by it. Tsunamis, flash floods--destruction, Killian. Your armor possesses dark powers, and you've bonded with it, a bond that cannot be broken."

Killian bristled at how Dais kept calling him Killian and Torrent, speaking as familiarly to him as if they were old-time mates, together for a casual conversation. He watched the warlord banish his armor, then sit back down on his stool, gazing at Killian. Surely he couldn't be right, could he? Killian had used this armor for weeks, practicing fighting, and learning its powers, and had not been corrupted. And water—water wasn't malicious! "Th—this armor protects people!" he finally said, taking a step forward, not realizing he was giving Dais some of the information he wanted. "It—it takes pain! It lets me cleanse the water and save the creatures who have to live in it! It can't be evil!" But an image refused to leave his mind, the image of a tsunami on the shores of northern Australia that should have killed him, but did not. But how many _had_ it killed?

Dais shrugged, standing up from his stool, and stepping away from the cell, looking back only once. "Deny it now if you must," he said. "But you'll soon learn. It will overcome you—you and I are of the same ilk, young Ronin. When the powers of our armor unite, we will fight side by side."

And then he was gone. Shaken and upset, Killian sat back down, denying with every fiber of his being everything Dais had said. He could protest all he wanted to Dais, but he couldn't exactly deny to himself the hatred he'd felt for all of them at one point or another. He couldn't deny how satisfying it would be to smash Kale's head on a large, sharp rock. "But that doesn't make me evil," he snarled, sitting back down and scowling at the dingy walls. "Some people deserve that and it's not evil to wish it! I'm not evil, you jerk!"

Was he?

Killian scowled, wrenching his mind away from Dais and his forked-tongue words—he was as much a snake as Sekhmet was! The Torrent armor was not evil. It wasn't. He refused to believe it. And Killian certainly wasn't evil. He wouldn't believe that, either. He closed his eyes and tried to summon the image of cleansing, healing waters, but flash floods and storm-maddened seas swam up instead, and he scowled, opening his eyes. "Miserable whacker," he hissed. He turned his mind instead to Tarun, only just managing to catch the feeling of the boy's mind. It was still calm, deeply asleep, and Killian was glad. He also tried reaching Demetrius, but was concerned when he could not. He hoped it was distance, only, or some power blocking him. Killian just hoped he was okay.

His own injuries beginning to throb once more, Killian lay back down and tried to rest.

---

The pain had been excruciating, beyond anything Demetrius had ever encountered before in his life, but mercifully brief. He didn't know what it was, only that it had been in a dart that the English warlord had stuck into Demetrius's neck when Demetrius began to struggle with his captors. The flare of agony, and then blackness—a knockout drug, a particularly nasty one. Demetrius wasn't even sure it was anything they could reproduce in the mortal world!

When he woke, he had the feeling he had been out for several hours. He was back in his riot gear, and noticed first a horrid throbbing in his hands—he looked up to see they were wrapped tightly within manacles, and that those manacles were attached to a wall. His feet touched the floor, but his knees were bent, his body limp from unconsciousness. He'd been hanging from his wrists now so long that they'd gone beyond numbness into pain.

Grimacing, Demetrius swore softly and clumsily got his feet beneath him, still groggy from the drug that English wretch had used on him. He hissed as the blood began to flow again into his hands, making them throb yet more fiercely. The youth scowled and yanked as hard as he could on the manacle, annoyed but not particularly surprised when he was not able to break it. The Hardrock armor gave him strength, but the miserable things were surely fortified by magic.

He leaned back against the wall, feeling distinctly unrested. 'Unconscious for hours, and I feel like I haven't slept in days.' He thought disgustedly, squinting his eyes and looking around at his surroundings, trying to make out where he was. The room was dim, and Demetrius did not have his glasses, so everything was a little out of focus.

Still, he could make out that he was in some kind of chemistry lab, or something of the like. The chamber was large, though not quite as large as the cavern where they'd all been preyed on by the Nether Spirits. One-fourth of the room was taken up by a sort of quasi-room, an area sectioned off by a low wall, and filled with liquid of some kind. It looked like the same water the cavern chamber had been filled with. Another part of the room was taken up by ornate, old-fashioned cabinets and shelves, and Demetrius could see delicate vials and goblets and other containers lining the shelves. To Demetrius's right, a thick door was set into the wooden wall.

The wall Demetrius was bound to had several other sets of manacles attached to it, and there was a table at one end with leather straps. He shuddered a little, realizing that he was certainly not the first prisoner in here, and wondered if the ones before him had gotten out alive.

He scowled in irritation at the walls; he would have expected them to be stone, but they were not. If they had been, Demetrius could have taken some energy from them, and he was willing to bet that's why he was brought there, because the walls were of wood. "The enemy knows far more about us than I like," he muttered.

He was prevented from further griping by the opening of the wooden door. He looked up, his heart suddenly beating faster, feeling the familiar buzz of adrenaline that flooded him when he was alarmed or angry. Sekhmet walked in the door, looking strange in his dingy sub-armor, smirking unpleasantly on seeing Demetrius awake. "Comfortable?"

Demetrius only narrowed his eyes, deciding not to reply to the snide greeting. Sekhmet wasn't exactly someone he wanted to have a friendly conversation with, anyway.

Sekhmet did not seem put out at all, only paused for a moment, looking at the door. Demetrius was irritated to see the Englishman walk in, looking grim and intimidating. He was taller than Demetrius, perhaps even taller than Suisei, and had long, blonde hair that seemed to make his soft features look stark. His green eyes were that of a particularly sadistic tomcat. He was also in riot gear.

Demetrius resisted the urge to bite his lip, and looked to Sekhmet instead, though he wasn't any better. His skin was sallow and inhuman-looking, and his eyes were unnaturally large, with no irises—only small black dots of pupils. The bastard even looked like a snake.

"You look a bit uneasy," said the Englishman with a smirk, his soft English accent somehow made sinister by its surprising gentleness. "Don't think I've introduced myself to you. Heath Jenkins. And you're Demetrius Rost."

Demetrius scowled, turning his gaze to Heath. "How do you know so much of me?" he asked, not bothering to try and use English. They seemed to understand him no matter what language he used.

Both warlords chuckled, and it was Sekhmet who answered. "You brats don't even realize we've spied on you for weeks. We know a great deal. That's how Master Talpa knew you wretches had lied to him." His nasty smile widened. "That's why you've been given over to us."

'Oh, great,' Demetrius thought, dismayed. They hadn't fooled Talpa for a minute—the sly old wretch had tested them!

"As for the information we have of your armor, we've fought the Ronin Warriors once before, the group that had the armor before you. A hot-tempered brat name of Kento possessed the armor you now bear. We already knew most, maybe all of its powers."

Despite himself, Demetrius was interested; he'd not known the names of the previous Ronin, except for Sanada Ryo. Kento. He would have to ask Amaya of the other Ronin. "Where are the others?" Demetrius asked, not sure he wanted to know.

"That's not your concern." Sekhmet turned his back on Demetrius, opening one of the cabinets, revealing several rows of small vials, all filled with different liquids. Sekhmet looked back at Demetrius and smiled, and Demetrius felt cold with fear.

"Which will you use first?" asked Heath, ignoring Demetrius for the moment, but it was clear he was asking for Demetrius's benefit, not his own.

"I think we'll start slow," said Sekhmet. "This one." He selected a vial from the cabinet and left it open, no doubt so Demetrius could enjoy the view.

Demetrius clenched his fists, his entire body tensing, as Sekhmet and Heath approached, fear spiking into his stomach. He never could have imagined how frightening it was to be bound helpless while the enemy approached. He kicked viciously out with one booted foot the moment Sekhmet came into range, growling furiously, taking both men by surprise. His foot connected with the vial, sending it flying across the room, where it shattered with a nerve-wracking peal of delicate, broken glass.

Sekhmet hissed, recoiling and summoning his armor without uttering a word; he stepped forward and swung his armored fist around to catch Demetrius alongside his face. Demetrius grunted, kicking out again, but Sekhmet was prepared for it this time, catching his foot and yanking it so that he was jerked off balance. Demetrius grimaced as his body fell, straining his still-sore wrists, and fought to regain his footing.

Sekhmet didn't give him a chance. He let go of Demetrius's foot, but drew one of his katana, swinging it viciously down to strike Demetrius across his legs.

Demetrius was clad in sub-armor, but it did not give him nearly as much protection as his full armor did, and he yelled in pain as the blade cut into the metal. A second, lightning-fast strike from the unnaturally powerful blade broke through the armor, cutting into Demetrius's skin, staining the metal with blood. Demetrius screamed, realizing immediately that the blade was coated with some sort of toxin from the sudden, unnatural pain the burned from the wounds and spread down his legs.

For a moment, things went blank as Demetrius dealt with the pain, which seemed to spike out from the injury into the immediate areas. The full effect of the blade did not lost long, mercifully, and the world began to slowly come back into its quasi focus. When he could see again, Sekhmet and Heath both stood in front of him, returning his gaze with amusement. "Let's try that again," said Sekhmet, turning his back on Demetrius once more to open his cabinet.

Heath still gazed at him while Sekhmet searched for his drug, but Demetrius ignored him, taking a deep, shaky breath and trying to get back onto his feet. But as soon as he moved his legs the slightest bit, another wave of nauseating pain spiked, and Demetrius ceased moving at once, clamping his lips shut on another outcry, uttering a muffled groan. '_What kind of sick mind invents something like this?_'

When the miserable half-breed returned (Demetrius was convinced Sekhmet was not completely human), Demetrius had to exert every bit of willpower he possessed not to try and kick him again. His instinct was to hurt him, to fight him with every weapon he could use. Sekhmet nodded to Heath, who reached forward and grabbed Demetrius's jaw, digging his fingers into his cheeks, obviously intent on prying open his mouth. Demetrius growled, violently jerking his head to the side, the only way left to him to fight. But the bastard didn't let go, only gave a powerful wrench, yanking his lower jaw down.

Sekhmet grabbed Demetrius's face as well, forcing the vial between his lips, throwing the liquid back into his throat—before Demetrius could react, he'd swallowed the contents, shaking his head as Heath released it, fighting a deep-down panic about what kind of poison he'd just been forced to drink.

Looking at the captive youth for a moment in disgust, Sekhmet muttered, "You may not be as hot-tempered as your predecessor, boy, but you're just about as obstinate."

Demetrius didn't answer, hardly hearing the insult, being far too busy trying to anticipate what was going to happen. Anything else Sekhmet had used thus far had been immediate, its purpose apparent seconds after it was used. But this wasn't doing anything!

He looked up at the two warlords, who seemed to be sharing some kind of inside joke, and wondered if he was going to be let in on the joke. He didn't wonder long; Sekhmet seemed to greatly enjoy letting his victims know exactly how his abominations functioned. "In case you wondered, Hardrock--Demetrius, is it?" Demetrius scowled. "The little concoction you just partook of is not a poison. Not quite."

"It's an inhibitor," said Heath. "It suppresses your body's natural defenses."

Demetrius stared for a moment, comprehending what that might mean. He knew a person could fight off toxins and others things, like viruses—did he mean that they had discovered a way to break down those safeguards? He began to feel numb, shaken by the idea.

"You understand correctly," said Sekhmet, grinning widely and looking more insane than ever. "My poisons are powerful, but those miserable brats—the other Ronin—were able to combat them, even without the help of their armor. This little potion will eliminate that obstacle. It is also a powerful immobilizer."

Demetrius realized with horror that he was right; the numbness he felt had not been from mental shock. He could move neither his arms nor his leg, though seemed to be able to move his head. 'Of course,' he thought giddily, 'he needs me able to talk!'

Heath laughed, am eerie howling sound that did not match his gentle voice; it sent gooseflesh across Demetrius's cold skin. "Do you feel it, lad?" he asked. "Do you feel its relentless passage through your blood? Can you fight it, Ronin? Can you stop its invasion? Do you not feel it shutting down your defenses, one by one?"

Demetrius clenched his fists, trying to stop them shaking, trying not to imagine that he _could_ feel the vile thing, suppressing the chemicals and glands in his body that would normally help protect him. He tried to ignore the fact that he couldn't move his body, to pretend he wasn't afraid that the drug might not wear off. He fought to keep from his expression how badly the warlord was daunting him.

Sekhmet managed to arrange his own expression into one of mock hurt. "You don't look impressed! I worked several months on developing this potion, Ronin. You have the very great honor of being my first human test subject."

"Nothing you touch could know honor!" Demetrius hissed furiously, expending some of his fear into anger.

Sekhmet narrowed his unnatural eyes for just a minute before the grin was back, and he opened up his cupboard once more, making a great show of selecting just the right vial. Despite himself, Demetrius grimaced at the sight of it; it was a sick, vivid yellow. He watched in horror as Heath took out one of the darts he's used on Demetrius earlier, tipping a bit of Sekhmet's yellow venom into its hollow tip, and approaching. Demetrius could do nothing to stop him jabbing it into his neck.

The pain was immediate and sharp, and Demetrius only barely kept from crying out. He squeezed his eyes shut as his skin suddenly seemed to be burning, as if they'd been seared with a hot iron. "Kinda feels like nerve gas, doesn't it?" asked Heath, his voice shaking with a slight chuckle. Demetrius could not have answered, but he couldn't imagine anything human made could hurt this much.

Demetrius remembered little after that point. He remembered questions, and remembered fighting against the toxins that he was being subjected to. He remembered struggling not to answer them, hating them for how difficult it was—when he refused, they jabbed him again, each dosage larger than the last, working in tandem to multiply his suffering each time, until each time he didn't think he could bear it any longer.

Sekhmet and Heath left the room at one point, though Demetrius scarcely noticed. The venom still raged through his system, and even if the paralyzing drug was not still affecting him, the pain would have crippled him. The minutes crawled by, until even the seconds seemed to drag past, adding up to over an hour of agony.

Finally, Demetrius began to discern a lessening of the pain, dimming down as the poisons began to lessen. Demetrius quieted, his throat raw and sore, and slumped exhaustedly in his bonds. The original drug, the defense-system suppressant, was beginning to wear off, which allowed the poison to begin wearing off, too, leaving a throbbing ache over his entire body.

Demetrius began to sob, startling himself, but not able to hold it back. Nothing in his life could have prepared him for the kind of pain those poisons had inflicted. Clenching his teeth, trying to control the half-hysterical weeping, Demetrius slowly moved his legs beneath him, shakily straightening out to stand upright, taking the terrible strain off of his wrists. He groaned as he remembered his legs had been injured and looked down, shivering a little at the blood, and hoping it wasn't serious.

It was fatigue more than anything that calmed him. As he leaned back against the wall, wishing he could lie down, he hoped to the bottom of his soul he had not given out any information that could harm his friends. He couldn't even recall the questions he'd been asked—the drug fogged his mind as much as the pain had. The only thing he could think of that they didn't already know was information about their families; most of them had families alive, and vulnerable, in various parts of the world. If he had given them locations or identities...

Demetrius twisted a bit, half curled up against the wall behind him, and lay his aching head against the smooth wood, wishing it was stone instead. He hoped the others were not doing as badly as he was.

Demetrius, in the company of Sekhmet and Heath.

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	33. Tainted Lands

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 33: Tainted Lands**

The Nether Realm was creepy in the extreme. There was soil and there were trees—though small and sparse. There were mountains and rock and sky and a sun...but none of it was as it was on earth. The sky was dark and the sun dim, and the constellations were alien. Even the ground itself had a strange, otherworldly appearance to it, strange and dark in color, stark and bleak. There seemed to be no life except for the five Ronin.

"I suppose we should be camping out soon," said Suisei as the group walked. He'd spent at least an hour of their trip craning his neck to gaze at the sky, tripping over rocks and dips in the ground. He'd finally come back to Earth...so to speak...when he groaned and announced his neck had an evil crick in it.

"This place, it is not right," said Rashida, looking gloomily up at the sun. It was bigger than Earth's sun, and gave off almost no light. Heat, but not light, and Nohano had no idea how that worked! "It is difficult, to get energy for my armor here."

"I believe it," said Xander. "I guess I should be all right...if day and night work the same here. I assume there's a twilight here."

Nohano snorted. "This whole place is twilight. Hell, you might be able to armor up the entire day."

"I'll try that!" said Xan thoughtfully, laughing a little. "It would be useful, especially if we get attacked, if I can energy up more often."

"Have you figured out how you got your shield-weapon?" asked Suisei. "That's how you took out Shuang, isn't it?"

Xander nodded. "Yeah, I nailed him with a sort of spear. I could already put up little shield walls to trip people up, but never had thought of actually making a shield I could hold. It was really weird. But yeah, I can make—well, look." Xander stopped for a moment, forming a small ball of energy in his hands. The other Ronin stopped, watching in fascination, as Xander sort of grasped the energy and made it into a figure of Suisei.

Nohano laughed delightedly. "You just have to think, and that's the shape it makes?"

Xan grinned. "Didn't know I could do _that_...but yeah, that's about it." He pulled the figurine by its ends, elongating it into a wicked looking spear, which he hurled away from the group. It struck the ground in a flash of light.

Nohano winced slightly. "Might not wanna do that again," he said. "We don't wanna attract attention." Xander nodded agreeably enough. Nohano did not voice is worry that Talpa and his creeps already knew they were there.

"We really should probably camp soon," said Amaya, looking around. "And have a watcher in case of trouble."

That was something Nohano had never thought of: posting a guard. "That's a good idea," he said. "Comet, you wanna take first watch? That way you can be insane and watch the stars while the sun sets."

Suisei laughed, taking the teasing good-naturedly, and shrugged. "Sure," he said. "Where are we gonna settle down, then?"

Nohano sighed, stopping for a moment and sweeping the landscape with his gaze. There was not a whole lot there in the way of cover, and he shrugged. "Doesn't matter, really. If I saw some place that was better than where we are now, I'd head that way, but I don't. As it is, let's just set up camp here."

No one protested, and the five youths shed their packs, sitting wearily on the ground. Nohano banished his armor, leaving the riot gear, and suggested that no one remove their sub-armor. "It's at least some protection," he said, "and flexible enough to sleep in."

"Should we eat anything?" asked Rashida.

Nohano nodded. "A little bit, yeah. We don't wanna skip meals unless we have to; our energy level needs to stay as level as possible in case we run across anything nasty. And in this place I'm sure we will." Amaya nodded and opened her pack, and Nohano frowned in concern. "Do you think Talpa knows we're here?"

Amaya sighed. "This is his realm," she said. "It belongs to him. I think that he knows everything."

That was not what Nohano wanted to hear! "I wonder why he doesn't send his goons to try and bring us in."

"Maybe he will tonight," said Rashida with a shrug.

"Either that," said Suisei, "or he's waiting for us to exhaust ourselves looking for Tarun and the others. We can't exactly leave. All he has to do is wait for us to come to him."

Nohano gazed at Suisei a moment before nodding grimly. "Terrific." He shook his head and opened his own pack, rummaging for a pack of jerky he'd put inside. There had been a large store of it at the shelter, and he'd not been able to resist taking some.

At least they'd been able to plan and to pack traveling gear. Everyone had a week's worth of light rations, full of fat and nutrients for maximum nourishment. Everyone brought several portions of water, in case there was none they could use there, and a bottle of water purifying tablets in case they did find a water supply there. Everyone brought a personal first aid kit, a spoon and fork, a change of clothing they'd gotten on their apartment raid, and one or two trinkets for entertainment.

Nohano's pack contained a small tool kit, some soap and toothpaste, and a coil of rope. Rashida's had a larger first aid kit, with far more supplies for the whole group, and things for use with more serious injuries. She could heal, yes, but it was always good to have a backup. She also had Demetrius's glasses and a lightweight tarpaulin. Amaya carried a supply of toilet paper and Xander had a compass (assuming it would even work), a pan for boiling water in, and a pair of binoculars. Suisei carried an extra coil of rope, a flashlight and insect repellant. Everyone had a blanket to lie on.

Nohano spread his on the ground, lying down and gnawing on his jerky and looking up into the frightening, fascinating alien sky. Suisei did have a point; the sky was beautiful, no matter what the rest of the realm was like. But very creepy. He wondered of Tarun got the opportunity to see any of the realm before being taken prisoner. He liked creepy things...he'd probably love the place.

Sleep was not easy to achieve, even as tired as Nohano was. In fact everyone seemed too tired to talk much once they were camped out, but everyone seemed to be lying awake. He didn't blame them; it wasn't like they had any experience in traveling into other dimensions! He glanced up at Suisei, who'd finished his small meal and was walking around the campsite, his gaze sweeping the desolate landscape in between gazing up at the sky. Nohano could almost see his friend mentally mapping the sky, perhaps locating the planets and naming the constellations. Nohano chuckled and rolled over, wishing he had a pillow, and closed his eyes.

Suisei woke him a couple of hours later to take second watch, and Nohano grumbled and complained as he sat up, rubbing his eyes, then wincing at the metal gauntlets. He scowled down at them as Suisei settled down onto his blanket. Nohano sighed, and stood, knowing that if he didn't, he'd just fall back asleep. He wondered just exactly how Suisei had known how long he'd been on watch; it wasn't as if they could take a watch. Amaya had said the Nether realm, like on Earth when the Dynasty was present, would have stopped the timepieces.

So Nohano simply kept watch until he couldn't keep his eyes open, pacing the camp and watching for trouble. He decided to wake Amaya, whose sleep seemed a bit troubled anyway, and she willingly took the next watch.

The next morning...if one could call it a morning...Nohano woke feeling surly. His dreams had been strange, and the Nether Realm seemed to be having a dampening effect on his spirits. Wordlessly he got some dried fruit out of his pack and chewed on it, noting no one either seemed to be saying a lot, either. Everyone was a little tired, unused to waking for watches.

"You look less than thrilled," said Xan, yawning, and blinking his eyes to clear them.

Nohano scowled down at his fruit. "I dreamed that Dais joined No Quarter," he grouched.

Xan stared at Nohano for a moment before he began to laugh, rolling back on his blanket and cackling. A rush of irritation came over Nohano then, especially when the others chuckled as well, and he scowled down at his food. He supposed he understood why it would be amusing—it really was a very strange image to see Illusion belting out the lyrics to What Do We Do With a Drunken Sailor—but the dream had not been amusing. It had been sickening, standing side by side with a man he hated, doing something that he loved.

Not to mention that Dais couldn't sing to save his life.

He glanced sideways over at Xan, who was still laughing, and reluctantly chuckled. He really must have caught Xan by surprise. "Don't wet yourself, Xan—it'll rust your riot gear." That provoked a fresh bout of laughter, but not before Xan flipped him off. Nohano finally laughed and took a swig of his water. "You're a freak, Xan."

Xan snorted, sitting up and finishing his own ration of dried fruit in one gulp. "You're one to talk. Your mind is the one that came up with Dais singing pirate songs."

Nohano had to admit it was a valid point.

Fifteen minutes later, after everyone had had a bathroom break, they were traveling once more. Nohano ended up being glad for the morning's levity, because there was not a whole lot of humor to be had in this horrid place.

For hours on end, there was nothing but the clank of their riot gear on the flat stone and the faint, sick glow of the Nether Realm's sun. Suisei could amuse himself by giving names to constellations and planets for a while, but even that could grow thin after a while.

And as the day wore on, Nohano began to worry more and more about his friends...his family. He tried to keep the horrible images of Killian being tortured, or Tarun injured, or Demetrius fighting for his life out of his head and didn't have a whole lot of success. The images swam to the front of his mind no matter how many times he shook them away. It had been three days, now; his friends had been in the hands of the enemy now for three days. Who knew what they were going through?

"I hate walking," Xan grouched as the sun began to dip towards the far horizon. Nohano wondered idly if east and west were the same here, or if there was even such a thing as east and west.

"I know what you mean," said Suisei. "Tiring and boring—not my favorite activity."

"And slow," said Nohano quietly. Impatience thrummed through his body like an electrical current, the desire to DO something intensifying with every hour that passed. Frustration rose along with the impatience, making him surly and taciturn. By the time they were ready to make camp, he'd not spoken once for the last hour.

No one said much during supper, and Nohano's tension began to melt into plain unhappiness. He wished that he could have met his new family without becoming a Ronin. He didn't want the responsibility, he didn't want to fear and the pain, and he didn't want to have to worry that someone of his family could be taken from him at any time. It threatened to consume his mind, drowning it.

Nohano was not very hungry, and put his ration away half-finished, standing up and offering to take first watch.

"Sounds good to me, man," said Xan, stretching out on his blanket and yawning. "I'm beat. Hey, wake me in a coupla hours, willya?"

Nohano nodded and stood up, watching the others settle into their less-than-comfortable sleeping pallets. Too bad air mattresses would have been far too bulky to take along.

When the breathing of his companions began to even out into sleep, Nohano gazed forlornly at the mountains that took up half the horizon. There were a few different ranges, it looked like, but he knew which one they needed to head towards. It was exactly like his nightmare, and he would never, ever forget that dream. He peered across miles of stone and straggly trees to the spiky peaks. "What a jerk," he uttered.

What happened next took Nohano completely by surprise. A low, bone-chilling chuckle reverberated through the air, setting the hairs on Nohano's body on end and sending gooseflesh spreading over his skin. He stopped short and spun around, seeing nothing but empty stone. And then the voice sounded, a soft voice that might have been only in Nohano's head: _So, young Wildfire. You seek me in my realm._

Nohano's hands begin to shake as he realized immediately who it was. It was Talpa—Arago—the demon from Nohano's nightmare. This was the one who had caused so much death in San Francisco, who had taken his friends from him and sicced his warlords on innocent people. Nohano was appalled at the malice, the foulness of the voice. He looked slowly to his friends, who still slept deeply, then around himself once more. No one. Wherever Talpa was, he was able to communicate with him from a distance. And he knew they were there.

He took a deep breath and held it for several seconds, gathering his nerve before speaking softly. "I do," he answered. "And you'd better watch out when I get there because if you've hurt my friends..."

The voice laughed again, a sound of genuine amusement, and Nohano bristled. Just like those miserable warlords—this demon jerk was not about to take a fifteen year old seriously. 'Just like any mortal adult,' he thought wonderingly.

_I look forward to our meeting, Wildfire._ It was still very strange to Nohano to be called Wildfire, as if it were his true name...and maybe it was. _I await you within my palace. As for your friends...you might be surprised when you arrive here. You may find that they no longer fight on your side._

Nohano stood very still, his eyes widening in fury. "What the hell are you talking about?" he hissed, waking Xan and Amaya. "They'd never fight by your side, you foul—you evil bastard!"

_We shall see. _ The malicious laughter sounded once more, echoing in the air around him, and then all sense of the bastard's presence was gone. Nohano stood, his fists clenched, as Xan sat up with his eyes wide.

"What in the hell was that?" he demanded. He'd obviously heard the laughter, if nothing else.

Nohano turned to him, his teeth clenched, and realized everyone was awake now. "That bloody demon, Talpa," he snarled.

Amaya stared. "Arago? He...spoke to you?"

"If you wanna call it that," said Nohano disgustedly, unclenching his fists abruptly, and kicking a nearby stone. It skittered away across the rocky ground and landed with a clunk. "Asshole. He pretty much said to bring it on, and that Killian and the others might be fighting on his side. Like hell!"

Amaya frowned, the concern on her face worrying Nohano. If he already knows we're here—and if he has any way at all to make our friends turn on us--

"They'd never!" said Nohano furiously, clenching his fists once more as he faced Amaya.

Amaya scowled, narrowing her blue eyes. I suppose they'd be immune to mind-altering drugs? she asked sarcastically. Or hallucinations, or telekinesis, or any other of the dozens of forms of mind control Talpa might have at his disposal?

Nohano's face began to warm, feeling foolish at not having thought of it. Amaya sometime had an unpleasant talent for making him feel like an idiot. He supposed in all fairness he'd snapped at her first, but wasn't in any mood to be reasonable.

Luckily, Rashida was. Stop, she said. We must not fight here, of all places. It is bad enough, this place, without adding to it our anger and enmity.

Nohano's indignant anger shifted to shame, and he took a big breath. "Okay, okay..." he said quietly. "Sorry, Amaya. Guess I'm on edge."

"It's all right," said Amaya a little stiffly. "I am sorry as well. I am worried, also."

Nohano blinked—reacting so much on emotion, more than anything else, he didn't always think of why another person might be acting the way they did. He felt a little sheepish, and he ran his hand through his hair, adjusting his headband. "Well. Let's try and get some more sleep, I guess. I have this sneaking suspicion we're really gonna need it. Who's taking next watch?"

Rashida said that she would, and Nohano spread out his blanket. Scowling again in irritation at Talpa's little message, he closed his eyes, and fervently hoped he didn't dream about Dais again.


	34. Kale's Assessment

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 34: Kale's Assessment**

Nohano was wakened in the middle of the night by Xander's warning cry. "Wake up!" he yelled loudly. "Trouble! Wake up!"

Suddenly wide awake, shaking with adrenaline, Nohano lurched to his feet and looked wildly around, taking in a brief, confusing look at what was happening. No one attacked them, but the ground was shaking violently, rocks rattling on the hard ground and sand shifting beneath his feet. Rashida and Suisei had armored up by instinct, and Xander looked like he was about to panic.

Oddly, Nohano calmed on seeing they weren't being attacked, because he had experienced earthquakes before. He didn't think any of his friends ever had, though he wasn't sure. "Stay calm, guys!" he called. "Stay low to the ground and grab the packs. We won't want to lose the supplies!" 'Damn, he thought, watching the others taking his advice and getting on their hands and knees and grabbing for their backpacks. 'This has gotta be at least an eight on the scale!' Of all the things he had expected in this land, an earthquake was last on the list.

Is there danger? Rashida asked, her arms flung out to keep her balance.

Nohano cursed as the rumbling intensified, and he was thrown to the ground. "Ow...damn it. Some!" he answered, inching towards his backpack. "Not nearly as much as it would be in a city full of tall buildings, though! We just need to stay in one place, and--"

An unearthly rending sound and a terrified scream from Amaya cut him off, and he turned in horror to see a great rift breaking apart in the ground, and Amaya falling—

He didn't stop to think; he lunged for Amaya, scrabbling for purchase on the heaving ground. He dove at the rift, grabbing Amaya's hand as she lost her tenuous grip on the edge of the chasm, clenching his teeth at her sudden weight straining his arm and pulling him halfway down.

Nohano yelled at the top of his lungs for help, clenching his hand as tightly as he could around Amaya's wrist, his other hand digging desperately into the ground. The ground still shook, shaking his grip, threatening to spill them both into a chasm whose bottom Nohano could not see. He thought the noise must deafen him, his own cry lost in the thunderous rumbling and the breaking of stone.

And then there were hands on his wrist, on his arm, pulling him towards the dubious safety above. He looked briefly, seeing Rashida and Xander were there pulling them both up, and that Suisei had lain on the ground right next to them, reaching his long arm down to reach for Amaya's free hand.

Nohano closed his eyes briefly in relief, aiding his friends as much as possible in getting himself and Amaya out of the wretched hole. Once Nohano was able to get leg up onto the shaking ground, and Suisei was able to reach Amaya's hand, they all heaved backwards, tumbling in a pile and scrambling away from the break in the ground.

No one had time to say anything, grabbing the backpacks and fleeing as far and as quickly as possible from the chasm. But the ground's shaking was already beginning to abate, the stone settling down and becoming suddenly still. Nohano stood, looking shakily at the chasm he'd nearly died in, catching sight of Amaya, whose dark face was oddly white. She looked at him then took a step forward, and then she was hugging him, gratitude shining through the mind link like a beacon. He was surprised for only a moment before returning the embrace, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a big, calming breath. He and Amaya did not get along always, but he knew that if she'd died, he'd have felt just as wretched as if any of the other Ronin had died. He couldn't describe his relief that he'd gotten to her in time.

When Amaya pulled away, Nohano was startled to see she'd wept; he didn't think he had ever seen Amaya cry in his life. He cried more than she did! She'd always been calm and steady, taking things as they came. He supposed it had taken her by surprise; she'd nearly died from something she had no control whatsoever over. That would shake anyone. For that matter, Nohano was crying, too.

"_Arigatou_," Amaya whispered, and Nohano remembered that it meant "thank you" in Japanese. Amaya shook her head and switched to mind speech, obviously too shaken to want to bother with English. It's not enough. But I mean it from the core of my spirit.

"You're welcome," said Nohano with a little laugh, touched by the sincerity in her voice, and amazed that he had just saved someone's life. "You're right, words are kinda stupid sometimes, aren't they?"

Amaya surprised him by laughing and nodding her head in agreement. Nohano looked around at the other three, who all looked as pale and shaken as he and Amaya were, then hugged each in turn. "My turn," he said with another shaky laugh. "Thanks. I owe you guys big."

"Aw, no way," said Xan with an admirably casual grin. "You'd do the same for us. No debts in this group—none of this 'owe ya' crap."

Nohano grinned and gave the thumbs-up. "Deal," he said. "Well. I'm awake now. Let's get some distance away from this damned area."

Everyone agreed quickly, and they picked up their supplies. It was only then that Nohano realized they were missing a pack, and frowned, figuring out whose was missing. 'Amaya's. She must have lost it in the Bottomless Pit. Damn.' He tried to remember what she'd had in her pack besides her personal supplies, and sighed ruefully once he remembered. She'd not had anything vital, but she'd certainly had something that was of great use. "Man, we lost all the toilet paper."

Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare for a moment. Xander groaned, Suisei and Rashida laughed wearily, and Amaya looked faintly embarrassed. Nohano finally laughed, too, slowly shaking his head. He'd never in his life thought he would have the problems that he was experiencing as a Ronin Warrior. Somehow losing all their toilet paper seemed to be an extremely undignified hardship.

"Well, we got some normal paper," said Xander finally. "And we can share food and water supplies. I think we're all right; let's just get the hell out of here."

No one argued.

"Does that happen a lot?" Suisei asked about a half-hour later. "With earthquakes? The earth opening like that and all?"

"No," said Nohano quietly, his mood sober once more. "I've never heard of it happening at all—that wasn't a normal thing."

"You think it was Talpa's doing?"

The answer did not at first come from Nohano. A harsh, sinister laugh echoed all around them, deep amusement in its tone, and everyone stopped, moving closer together. That was all, just a brief chuckle, but it was enough to unnerve them all. "Yeah," said Nohano, looking disgustedly up towards the unnaturally dark sky. "Yeah, I do."

Mildly demoralized and seriously spooked, the group did not travel far. Once the excitement of their "adventure" began to wear off, they remembered they'd not gotten more than three hours of sleep.

They had been traveling towards rockier terrain, which made Nohano nervous, since an earthquake near rocks and cliffs could be just as deadly as bottomless pits. So he scouted out a nice, open area to camp out in, and Amaya said she'd take watch because there was no way she'd sleep after that. Nohano didn't blame her; he wasn't feeling much like sleeping, either. He was feeling paranoid, in fact, wary of another ground quake. He only managed to drift off after Amaya had woken Suisei for his watch and gone to sleep.

---

The next day, Nohano was extremely grouchy, sore and tired. Everyone seemed to be feeling surly, in fact, and no one spoke much the entire morning. Nohano vowed that the first thing he was going to do when he met Talpa was to deck him.

As noon approached, evident only when they looked up to see the position of the creepy sun, Nohano's doom began to dissipate a little bit. The fact that Xander complained of having dreamed of dating the president and being chased by her furious husband had a lot to do with his lightened mood. Nohano had not dreamt anything he'd remembered, and decided that he was glad. The Nether World was lousy for nighttime visions.

"Amaya?" asked Nohano during their lunch, which was a bit more meager than it had been the day before, so that they saved the supplies they had left.

"Yes?"

"The virtues of our armor...what are they in Japanese? The original Ronin, they would have used the Japanese terms, right?"

Amaya smiled; Nohano knew she enjoyed telling the Ronin stories, and being asked about her country, and the others all looked interested as well. Well, yours is _jin_, she said. Your virtue is literally virtue.

Nohano felt his face heat a little, but he couldn't help grinning. It was still very weird to him, being told he personified virtue, righteousness. Sometimes it was an honor he didn't think that he deserved.

Suisei's is _inochi,_ she went on. Life, of course. Rashida's is _rei_, which sort of translates to courtesy, or grace. It can be very loosely translated to wisdom, in English. It carries over oddly. Killian's—his is trust. _Shin_. Demetrius's is justice, whish is _gi_.

"How do you know this?" asked Rashida.

The kanji, the symbols on the spheres. They are words in Japanese. Nohano's kanji is the word _jin_, so I know it is virtue.

Rashida briefly banished her riot gear, peering at the symbol on her orb. All this time I never thought to look up the kanji, she said wonderingly. It's not easy to see it, either. It sort of shines within the mist.

Amaya smiled, nodding in agreement as Rashida armored once more. Sometimes people forget that the symbols are our written language. One form of it, that is. Tarun's kanji is _omoi_, which can mean many things. Joy, emotion, love... She sighed quietly, and Nohano intuited that she missed the boy, and presumably Demetrius and Killian as well. Nohano knew exactly how she felt. Xan, yours is _aigo_. Protection. Xander grinned, seeming to like it. As for me, I have _shinwa_, fellowship. And I know that Nohano's armor is _rekka_, Japanese for Wildfire.

"Japanese is weird," said Xander, earning mock furious looks from Amaya and Suisei. Xander laughed, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Hey, don't get sore! It _is _weird! I could never learn it—two written languages and different words for the same things, and prefixes, and--there's just too much to wrap my poor, puny brain around."

Suisei laughed. "Well, since you have a poor, puny brain I guess I can't be too angry with you."

"Thank you," said Xander with a grin, finishing the rest of his lunch. "And my lunch matches my brain. Don't feel bad," he said hurriedly to Amaya, who looked upset, having been the one who lost some of their supplies. Xander looked embarrassed. "It's not you. They weren't exactly big to begin with. Now, if you could come over here and help me get my foot out of my mouth I'd appreciate it."

Nohano and Suisei both cracked up at Xander's red face and pitiful plea, though Amaya and Rashida looked quite perplexed. Suisei explained briefly through the mental link what it meant to put one's foot in one's mouth, and then they were able to laugh.

Xan shrugged sheepishly. "Guess I'm good at that," he said.

"Don't worry about it," said Suisei with a chuckle. "We forgive you. Your puny brain, remember?" Xander snorted, but chose not to reply.

"All right," said Nohano with a sigh, gazing at the distant mountain. "That miserable mountain is gonna take days to reach. I wish we all had Tarun's speed!" Amaya had tried to transport earlier in the day, and been blasted unceremoniously back as she had before—Talpa obviously had protection magic in his realm.

That would be convenient, Rashida agreed. Though it would mean we hadn't your fire power and virtue, nor Amaya's teleportation, nor Suisei's life abilities...you get the idea.

Nohano nodded seriously. "Logical," he said. "But I'm not logical. So I refuse to make sense."

Rashida was surprised into a laugh, shaking her head ruefully as she picked up her pack of supplies.

---

From behind the cover of a large outcropping of rock, a man crouched, watching the group of five youths trekking wearily across the lands, peering through the metal mask that obscured his features. Kale, sent by Talpa to make sure their passage was not an easy one and to judge their skill and knowledge, had watched them struggle against Talpa's earthquake and followed them since.

Moral and Cade had gotten plenty of intelligence on the Ronin, and the warlords were gaining a bit of information from their three prisoners, but there was some information that could only be gained by watching them dealing with adversity. Enemies, disasters... Kale had left Jin Tanaka in charge of the young Ronin boy, and put several of the lessers on alert to be ready to fight at a moment's notice.

Smiling, Kale stood, keeping to the rocks, and followed.

He decided to wait until the sun was setting to confront the Ronin Warriors with their next challenge. The Dynasty soldiers who had rounded up nearly all of the people from the American city were now back in the Nether Realm, giving Kale a vast resource of fighters to set against the Ronin. He summoned a group of them now, smiling as they materialized behind him, and nodded towards the weary youths. The soulless fighters swarmed towards the group while Kale climbed up into a niche in the rock face, wanting a better vantage point from which to watch the battle.

It was Wildfire who first heard the approaching soldiers, empty, horrifying, ancient suits of armor advancing on foot and on horseback. Even the horses were not mortal, made of dark energy, rather than flesh and blood. The boy yelled in alarm, leaping back from the approaching horde of soldiers, and crying out, "Armor of Wildfire!"

It was strange to Kale, watching the Hawaiian boy summoning _rekka_. The only Wildfire he had ever known had been Sanada Ryo, and Kale had never thought to see another bear the armor. He watched with interest as the girl, Halo, cried our her summoning in her own Middle Eastern language, and the redheaded American called for "Armor of Twilight". The two Japanese youths, Strata and Night, called for _yoroi tenku_ and _yoroi shinkou_.

They were intimately familiar with their armor, that was clear. Kale watched as the soldiers descended upon the group, swords and spears slashing, nunchaku flying, and the hooves of the spirit horses creating an unholy din in the still air.

Clearly the best fighter among the five Ronin was Night. The girl possessed grace and agility, and strength that her small frame belied. Her nunchaku had taken out three of the soldiers before the others even got to their battles. Strata tried his best to stay out of the middle of the fight, for his longbow was useless in close-up fighting. His aim was nearly as good as Tenku no Touma's had been, and he was quick enough to take out several soldiers before they even got to the group.

Halo seemed to be the strongest of the group below; she was sturdy and powerful, wielding her nodatchi with very little effort. What she lacked in litheness, she made up for with power and skill, using hand-to-hand fighting as much as her weapon. Kale judged that she had not studied swordwork nearly as long as she had studied her unarmed fighting. Twilight did not fight; he spent the entirety of his energy protecting the others, eyes darting worriedly back and forth to judge who was in the most danger, dashing forward and flashing up fields of energy to deflect blows or trip the attacking soldiers and their mounts. Kale knew the boy was able to form his shield energy into deadly weapons; Tai Shuang had been badly injured by such a weapon, but Twilight did not use them now. "It's not in his nature," murmured Kale. He was more worried about keeping his friends safe than fighting.

This new Wildfire, Nohano, interested Kale the most. Kale knew more of his fighting style than of anyone else's, having battled him more than the others, but it was difficult to objectively judge one's opponent while fighting him. This way Kale had the leisure to observe him, to notice the boy's strange awkwardness when fighting, as if he'd never held a blade before in his life until discovering his _rekka_ armor. Kale was astonished at how well he managed to fight, even with this awkwardness, this lack of proper technique. Often he used his katana like bludgeons, swinging them as if they were baseball bats. He ducked and dodged to avoid the weapons blows of the soldiers, looking more like a child who has tried on his father's armor than a warrior himself. And he was grinning from ear to ear. Whatever he thought of the Dynasty or being a Ronin Warrior, he liked to fight. Kale had seen that in the tundra battle, too.

'His ferocity,' he thought suddenly, his eyes widening in comprehension. 'That is why his awkwardness does not hamper his fighting nearly as much as it should.' The boy was like a firestorm, each move nearly exploding with the energy of the boy's spirit. He truly belonged with the Wildfire armor. 'I wonder if he knows of _Kikoutei_ yet.'

The Inferno armor. Talpa was most interested in this, as always, for it was an item of great power. He especially wanted to know if the three new sets were designed to work with the Inferno armor, understanding that with eight, not five, Inferno would be that much more powerful.

The battle was brief and brutal. Soon there lay smoking ruins of dark armor around the whole area, with the five Ronin standing back to back in the middle, looking for just a moment like the original five Ronin. Kale blinked, shaking his head slightly, and let himself notice the differences. Aside from two of the armors being completely new, they who bore the armor were very different. He never thought he'd live to see an American with _any_ of the nine armors.

He heard Twilight spit an insult of some kind at the defeated soldiers, kicking one of them before removing his helmet and running a hand through his red hair. Halo assessed her comrades, and Kale watched with interest as she discovered a nasty wound on Amaya's head and healed the injury. 'So, she has discovered her healing power.' They were learning more and more about their abilities, of what they could do when their spirits and the spirits of their armor combined. The more they knew, the more dangerous they became.

Wildfire sheathed his katana and clenched his fists briefly in a gesture of triumph before banishing his main armor, leaving him clad only in the sub-gear. Strata rejoined the group, putting away his bow and also reverting to his sub-gear. The other three soon followed suit.

Despite himself, Kale was impressed. Halo and night had both studied fighting, and it was evident, but the others had not fought in their lives before becoming Ronin. They had learned much in a few short months, increased their skill greatly. He remembered Moral had said they practiced for hours a day, nearly every day, taught by Halo and Night.

Kale turned his gaze once more to the Hawaiian boy, who had sat down with his head held tiredly in his metal-covered hands. The battle had certainly wearied him, though he was still grinning foolishly. Leaving the Ronin to lick their wounds, Kale retreated back into the shadows, and left to report to Talpa.


	35. Reunited

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 35: Reunited**

Over the next two days, Kale threw several tests at the Ronin, both to exhaust them as much as possible before they reached the palace, and to observe them. He sent Dynasty soldiers at them twice more, increasing their numbers each time. He triggered a rockslide that they only barely managed to avoid, and brought from the mortal realm a pack of ordinary wolves, maddened by evil energy and set on the Ronin while they slept. Recognizing the wolves as only beasts, Wildfire insisted they try not to harm the animals, defending themselves only and escaping the beasts by climbing the rocks. Kale chuckled and decided to keep the wolves; he had always had an affinity for the creatures.

He watched them struggle and recover. He watched them trek on, obviously knowing exactly where they were going. He watched them discover a stream that Wildfire didn't get anywhere near; one of the others brought over a pan of water and a bar of soap for him. Wildfire cautiously stripped down and began to bathe while the other two boys stripped down and dove into the stream to wash up. The two girls kept watch, their backs on the nude boys. When they were finished, the girls bathed while the boys kept watch. Kale was amused that none of them even tried to take a peek at the girls, but supposed that they were too honorable. Having no great desire himself to watch _any_ of them bathing, Kale spent the time thinking of his next test.

Remembering Moral's information about Wildfire, Kale considered ensuring that the boy found his way into the stream, but the stream was shallow, and though it would likely startle him, it wouldn't be any great trauma. It would be far more effective to spring it on him at the palace. The Ronin were only three days from the palace as it was, and Kale finally decided to return and report, and see if Talpa wanted him to continue.

---

To Kale's surprise, when he gained audience with Talpa, Sekhmet, Dais, and Jin Tanaka were there also. He shot them a curious glance, but only for a moment; it was never a good idea to put one's attention elsewhere when standing before Master Talpa.

At Talpa's nod, Kale gave him his report, and received brief acknowledgement for his information. Then he looked to the others in turn, and Kale realized Talpa wanted to know what they'd found out from their prisoners.

"My venoms have done well on Hardrock," said Sekhmet with a pleased grin. "I've found information on the Ronin' families and where they are from. I also know what he knows about his own armor. If it has abilities beyond those Kongou no Shuu knew, this Demetrius has not yet discovered it."

"Well done," Talpa murmured, and looked then to Jin Tanaka.

Jin's expression was as cold as ever as she saluted, her fist held rigidly across her chest, but in her eyes was a gleam that told Kale she was pleased with herself, also. "The child does not know much more than we already knew, Master," she said. "He thinks there might be a second power to his armor, but doesn't know what it is. However...it took me a great deal of time, but managed to extract the name of the man who crafted the new armor. He is a man called Yasuo Toshitada. From the research I have done, he is a descendant of one of yours, he who betrayed your ranks: _Onii Masho_ Shuten."

Kale felt his own eyes widen as he looked to Talpa to catch his reaction. The demon's eyes glowed brightly for several moments before he nodded, one hand clenching into a fist. "Good," he murmured. "Very good, Jin Tanaka. I cannot deal with him just yet. But I will in time. Dais."

Dais stepped forward and saluted. "My Lord, what I have found from Torrent is not much, but possibly useful. He does not know for certain where the first Ronin armors were hidden before they found their way to this new group, but he did know how he and the others got their armor. He and Hardrock found theirs in the sea and the earth, respectively. It is possible they had been hidden there, protected from detection by their very elements. Strata found his within the engine of a flying machine, and my guess is that the plane encountered it in the atmosphere, bringing it down when the armor orb caused it to malfunction. Wildfire's was mailed to him from Japan, likely from Sanada Ryo's own family. Halo's was given to her as a birthday gift, though from whom, she doesn't know. That one is a mystery."

"I see," rumbled Talpa thoughtfully. "Minor, but useful. How did you interrogate him, Dais?"

Dais smiled. "Oh, I didn't harm him, Master, beyond the initial injury I dealt him. Much like Cye of Torrent, Killian cannot bear to see others hurt. I simply forced him to watch the others being questioned. It was far more effective to have them punished for his lack of cooperation. A pity he didn't know more."

Talpa chuckled, then nodded his head. "I see. This is it, then? There was nothing else to be gained from these Ronin?"

"I don't believe there is, Master," said Jin Tanaka, and the others voiced their agreement. "They knew nothing of this _Kikoutei_ armor I have been told of. I do not believe any of them know of it."

Talpa nodded. "Sekhmet. I believe you have concoctions that can heal injuries? The same as those you used on Tai Shuang and yourself after your failures in fighting the Ronin?"

Sekhmet's sallow skin tinged dark at the reminder before he bowed briefly and said that he did have healing potions. "Painful, but effective," he added.

"You will use them on the Ronin, then," said Talpa. "We will see that their physical injuries are mended, and allow them to gain some of their strength back."

Kale stared at Talpa in astonishment, unable to help himself. "But Master...why?" he dared to ask.

Talpa did not become angry, instead he chuckled again, obviously pleased with whatever plans he had. "I intend to have my Nether Spirits possess them, Kale. I want them in fighting condition by the time the time their companions arrive here. When they get here, our prisoners will quite unwillingly be fighting by your side."

Sekhmet broke into gleeful laughter, and a moment later, Kale had joined him, after getting over his surprise. He couldn't wait to see the looks on those miserable brats' faces on seeing their beloved friends fighting alongside Talpa's warlords. Dais grinned maliciously. "It is as I told Torrent. Our armors are from one...how strong will the possession be, My Lord, in only two or three days?"

"I do not intent to brainwash them, Sekhmet," said Talpa. "It will not be possible in so short a time, as it was with Kayura. My spirits will need to remain within the Ronin' spirits the entire time. So long as they are able to keep their hold, the Ronin will do as I tell them. The others will not know they are being controlled."

"It's a shame that _rekka_ cannot be corrupted," murmured Kale. "If we could corrupt them all, we would be unstoppable."

"Do not think I haven't thought this before, many times, Kale," said Talpa in mild reprimand. "However I have not given up hope of managing this sometimes in the future. For now I will settle for having the armor under my control. Sekhmet, see to dealing with my prisoners' injuries. Kale, tomorrow you will take a group of the lower warlords to fight the Ronin, wherever they might be. Dais, you may go if you wish, as well. I do not want the rest of their trip to be as easy as it has been thus far."

"Hai," replied Kale, bowing formally before backing towards the door, seeing Sekhmet do the same. "It will be done."

Once the others had been dismissed and they were away from Talpa's chambers, Kale allowed himself a grin. Sekhmet was grinning already, looking inordinately pleased with himself. "I can't see how we can fail this time."

"Don't get too confident," warned Dais. "That's gotten us into trouble before, as you know."

Sekhmet shrugged, not arguing, but the grin did not leave his face.

"Jin," said Kale. "You've done well."

The woman turned to him, bowing briefly, and allowing herself a small smile. "Thank you, Kale-san," she said. "I have done my best. The boy is stubborn, but he is only a child. Children do not hold up well to torture."

"No," said Kale. "I don't suppose they do. I will go speak to the others about our fight tomorrow. Jin, you may accompany us if you wish."

"I would like to do so, Kale-san," she said, smiling once again.

Kale knew she enjoyed battle as much as he did, and she fought well. "Very well. Rest up then for tonight, and we leave in the morning."

The woman nodded and veered off towards the living quarters, and Kale exchanged a grin with his two oldest friends. It had been long since things had gone so well for their master, and for them. I look forward to the Ronin Warriors' arrival, said Dais through their mind link.

It will certainly be interesting, agreed Kale. To come this far to rescue their comrades, only to see them fighting with us? I will enjoy seeing that!

I will see you all later, said Sekhmet. I must perform my task. Good luck to you, Kale.

The two men grasped one another's arms briefly before parting; Dais joined Kale outside, and Sekhmet stopped for a few seconds to summon his full armor. They he headed down to the dungeons to deal with the three prisoners.

---

Killian sat in his cell, clad in his riot gear, curled up in the far corner. Except for some general roughing-up and the webs that had half-crushed his ribs, Killian had not been hurt, but he almost wished he had. For the last three days, Dais had dragged Killian to the others parts of the vile dungeons, restrained him, and forced him to watch the other warlords torturing his friends. He could never stand to see things hurt or suffering, and to watch his closest friends enduring the pain the sadistic bloody bastards were putting them through inevitably reduced him to tears. And there was no way he was able to keep mind contact with them; he couldn't concentrate enough or calm himself enough to be able to help them. He couldn't even reach Demetrius, period, and suspected the dark energy of the poison was blocking him. If only he could make physical contact with Demetrius! He could get rid of the vile poison!

Killian shivered as he tried to banish the image of Tarun shrieking in pain as Jin Tanaka draw a sharp blade across his face, or Demetrius slumping exhaustedly in his bonds, at the end of his endurance after hours of being subjected to Sekhmet's poisons. Killian had found himself telling Dais more than he wanted to tell, just so they'd give his friends a reprieve.

The boy leaned tiredly against the wall, having gotten little sleep and no food the entire time. He'd been given water, though very little, and his waking hours were spent either worrying about his friends or trying to comfort Tarun mentally, and wishing desperately for something to drink.

A slight noise outside the door to the outer hallway made Killian look up in alarm. 'No,' he thought, clenching his fists as the outside door opened. 'No, not again...' But to his surprise, it was Sekhmet, not Dais who walked in. Killian felt an odd combination of confusion and rage as he looked at the man who'd spent the last three days tormenting Demetrius. He got to his feet, keeping to the back of the cell. "What do you want?"

Sekhmet paused outside the cell, regarding him coolly for a moment. "You have two choices, Killian of Torrent," he finally said. "You can do as I tell you, or you can refuse. Refuse, and I will retrieve my most painful poisons and unleash them on your friends. Cooperate and I will not."

A cold chill went over Killian as he stared at him, afraid of what he might want Killian to do, and even more afraid to refuse. He knew full well these people did not bluff. "Fine," he said through clenched teeth. "What do you want me to do?"

"Remove your sub-armor."

Killian blinked, taken by surprise, and paused for a moment. But the image of what Sekhmet could do, and had already done to Demetrius was enough that he didn't pause for long. Trembling a little, Killian closed his eyes and concentrating on banishing then riot gear, grasping the orb in his hand and stowing it hastily in his pocket. The last thing he wanted was for Sekhmet to have his armor orb. He knew that the one thing he could never allow was for Talpa to have all the armors together.

But Sekhmet didn't seem interested in the armor at all. He simply entered the cell and approached. Despite himself, Killian backed up until he felt the cool wall behind him. "Just hold still, wretch," Sekhmet hissed. "I am under orders to heal your injuries. It will hurt, but you'll endure it, or I'll make certain you endure far worse."

Again, Killian was surprised for a moment out of his wariness. Heal? Painful? It didn't make sense to him that the two would go together, but he didn't think Sekhmet was capable of doing _anything_ without causing pain. The sadistic cur was cruel to the core of his spirit. Killian nodded the slightest bit, biting his lip and trying not to look as scared as he felt.

Sekhmet closed his eyes for a moment and summoned his snake-armor, then placed his gauntleted hands on each of Killian's sore sides. He winced slightly, but did not move away, clenched his hands against the stone wall to keep them from trying to hurt Sekhmet as badly as they could. No matter how much Killian wished he could, it would be a grave mistake.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a deep, burning pain began to seep into his skin, and he groaned, closing his eyes and fighting to keep still. Sekhmet's gauntlets were oozing a clear, thick liquid that Killian assumed was one of his venoms, but he could tell this one was healing Killian's injuries, even while it burned his skin and made his ribs ache horribly. At the height of the "healing" session, Killian couldn't stop from screaming, feeling like his sides were being torn apart, and it took every bit of resolve he had not to fight. Mercifully, it did not last long, and finally, Sekhmet removed his hands from Killian and stepped back. Panting, Killian looked at him, wishing he could smash his smug face.

"Your self-restraint surprises me," said Sekhmet, nodding slightly. Killian was taken aback by the almost-compliment. "You will follow me."

Sekhmet did not repeat his earlier threat; he did not need to. Killian didn't answer, but when Sekhmet left the cell, Killian shakily followed, putting a hand gingerly on his side, and marveled that there was no pain--only the lingering ache from Sekhmet's "cure". Insane. This warlord was insane—that was the only explanation. Only a madman could create a poison that healed broken bones, and yet caused so much pain in the process. If only he fought on the side of good, he'd be the world's greatest healer!

Killian barely looked at the corridors he was being led down, not really caring about enjoying the scenery. He brushed his dirty, tangled hair from his eyes, and followed Sekhmet through a set of double doors. At first he thought he'd been brought back to the chamber where the Nether Spirits had preyed on him and the others, but only for a moment. It was soon clear this was not the same place. It was an underground cavern but the malevolent, floating forms of the spirits were not present. Sekhmet grabbed Killian's arm, startling him, and shoved him unceremoniously into the chamber. Killian was shocked to feel cool liquid splashing against his bare legs, covering his feet.

_Water_! Clear water! _Untainted_ water—at least an untainted as anything could be in the miserable place.

Ignoring Sekhmet, indeed forgetting he was even there, Killian knelt, and then submerged himself, drinking until he felt dizzy. He felt some of the dreadful weariness slip away, and the prickly ache in his dry throat was eased. He didn't know why he'd been healed and brought here, but he wasn't about to argue. He grabbed the armor sphere in his pocket and armored completely up, feeling the surge of energy as it began to recharge itself—and him.

When Killian finally emerged from the water, Sekhmet was gone, and the doors were closed tightly. Killian went over to try them, though he didn't expect they'd be open. He was right. Shrugging, he looked around the chamber, now having the leisure to take in the details.

The chamber was not nearly as large as the spirit chamber had been. The water did not cover the entire area, either; raised rock sat in the back of the chamber, rising out of the water like a strange beach. The chamber was lit by candles set high into the wall, burning a brilliant blue color, casting eerie shadows. The ceiling was high enough that it disappeared into darkness, and Killian's splashing and the distorted, underwater clank of his boots on the stone beneath echoed. Still, for all its gloom, it was vastly better than the tiny cell he'd spent the last three days in.

Feeling almost content, Killian lay down in the water and closed his eyes, but he didn't get to rest for long. The double doors opened again, spilling feeble light into the chamber, and Sekhmet walked in again, this time grasping Demetrius by one arm. Killian scrambled to his feet, his eyes widening, as Sekhmet let Demetrius go and retreated once more. Demetrius fell to his knees, shaking.

Killian ran to his friend, immediately worried. Demetrius's face was shock white, and he looked as if he were barely conscious. Killian didn't try to move him, only knelt and put an arm around his bowed shoulders. Demetrius did not raise his head, in fact didn't seem like he was able to. Killian frowned, remembering that he could clean water, and was able to drink things most people would take sick from. He wondered if he could cleanse human bodies the same way.

As soon as he wondered that, he knew it was true, and he closed his eyes, wondering how he could tell how badly Demetrius was affected. He concentrated, trying to capture the feeling he got when cleaning water, and was startled by a sudden intuition, an understanding about how much poison Demetrius had taken in the past three days. He was appalled at the amount, wondering why Demetrius wasn't dead.

'Bastard'd make sure they weren't lethal,' Killian thought furiously. He shifted his position so that he was facing Demetrius, placing his hands on his shoulders, and trying not to think of how it was quite similar to what Sekhmet had done to heal Killian's ribs. He recaptured the feeling he got when cleansing water, willing the toxins raging in Demetrius's system to be purged.

Slowly, it began to work. Demetrius's deathly pallor faded a little, and he sat back on his heels, raising his head to look at Killian. Their mind link suddenly connected then, weak at first, but strengthening as the poison left Demetrius's bloodstream. Killian smiled for the first time in days as he felt the last of the awful venom leave, and caught the gratitude in Demetrius's pale eyes. Killian hugged the other boy, glad they were back together—it had been horribly lonely and miserable alone, and Killian hoped that they would bring Tarun in, too.

"There's a dry spot over there," said Killian, standing a little unsteadily and helping Demetrius to his feet. He supported the Russian boy as they walked to the rear of the chamber, helping to ease him down onto the rock, chuckling slightly and the sudden look of relief on Demetrius's face. Demetrius closed his eyes and splayed out on the rock, taking in its energy, his skin regaining what little color it normally had.

Killian stepped back into the water, freezing at a sudden, horrible jolt of fear and pain in his mind—Tarun's familiar mental signature. 'Oh God,' Killian thought. 'They're not torturing him again!' But a moment later he realized what was happening; Sekhmet was healing Tarun the way he'd healed Killian. Killian felt hot tears prickle his chilly skin, but he didn't try to send comfort over the link. His emotions were in too much turmoil, and he was certain he'd be seeing Tarun when Sekhmet was finished. He'd be able to help far better then.

Sure enough, a few moments after Tarun's mental voice had quieted, the doors opened a third time, and Tarun was flung into the waters. Killian ran to the boy, who shrieked his name, and knelt down to gather Tarun into his arms. Tarun burst into tears and huddled against Killian's armor; it was easy, then, to ease the lingering pain from Tarun's mind, and to begin to calm him. Killian couldn't count how many times in the past days he'd wished he could do this, and could feel nothing but gratitude that his friends were again with him.

"C'mon, little mate," he said softly, gently urging him to his feet. "There's some dry land over there. Let's get you out of the water—it's chilly."

Hiccuping, Tarun nodded, and let Killian lead him to where Demetrius sat, looking concernedly at them. Will he be all right? he asked, worry thrumming through his mental voice, putting a large hand on Tarun's back.

"He will be," said Killian softly, not letting go of Tarun. He banished his armor, thinking it must be awfully uncomfortable to lean against, and began smoothing back Tarun's hair. "You're gonna be all right, Tarun."

Tarun had begun to quiet, and only nodded, but he did not let go his grip on Killian's wet clothing. That was all right with Killian; the last thing he wanted to do just then was to leave the child's side.

For at least a half hour, the three Ronin sat close together, comforted by the presence of the others, and letting themselves begin to recover from what they'd been put through. Killian held Tarun in his lap, and in turn Demetrius kept his strong arm around Killian's shoulders. Tarun admitted miserably that he'd told the enemy at least some of what they wanted to know, and Killian said that it was all right. So had he. Demetrius said that he, also, had talked. The threesome spent several minutes verbally abusing their captors, and surprisingly Killian felt a lot better after having done so.

Tarun yawned, and Killian felt a surge of sympathy; surely Tarun had gotten little sleep. He looked down at the boy's hands, which seemed to be all right—he knew they'd both been broken at some point or another, and closed his eyes, forcing the image away. "Armor up, kiddo," suggested Killian. The boy was shivering slightly, chilled by the air in the chamber. "You'll be warmer, and you can start getting your energy back. You can recharge during the day, even if you can't see the sun, can't you?"

Tarun nodded, pulling away from Killian only long enough to do as was suggested. "I-it's just not as strong in the dark."

"Understandable," said Killian. "Hell, I don't even know if it _is_ day."

Tarun shook his head. "No. It's night. My armor knows."

Well, it will be daylight again, said Demetrius, lying down on the stone. For now, perhaps we sleep.

No one argued. All three of them were completely exhausted, and Killian suddenly felt as if he hadn't slept for weeks. He slipped down into the water, glad when Tarun and Demetrius moved so that they were close by, and curled up right at the waterline. He didn't know what was going to happen to them, but for now he was just happy to be with the others, and fairly safe.


	36. Fight and Flight

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 36: Fight and Flight**

Nohano was glad they had found the stream, even if he didn't get anywhere near it. With the help of the water purifiers and a small fire he had made in some deadwood, they were able to boil and sanitize the water for drinking. He used some of his jerky supply to boil up some soup, which they all ate from the pot, using the spoons they had brought from the shelter.

They did not refill their water bottles just yet, as the stream led for several miles in the direction they needed to go. Nohano was not completely at ease, however. He and his group had come across far too many problems thus far for him to feel even a little secure. That last bunch of Dynasty soldiers had been fierce, and Rashida had to tend Suisei and Amaya afterwards.

Still, the day had been quiet thus far, and Nohano hoped it would stay that way.

Nohano got his wish, though the next day more than made up for it. The group had only just finished their breakfast rations and put their things away when they were surprise-attacked by Kale, leading a group of warlords. Nohano only barely woke in time duck a fierce thrust from a Roman-looking spear wielded by the Italian jerk in cougar armor. Rashida cursed in Urdu, and Demetrius let a cry of alarm even as they got to their feet and armored up.

Nohano ducked a double-spear attack from the Italian one, and leapt up to a nearby crag of rock, calling his armor. He took only a moment to look over his adversaries. Seven of them. Kale was there, and the Chinaman, Shuang. The Japanese and black women were there, and the Italian guy, and some white guy Nohano only vaguely remembered from the meeting in San Francisco. 'I do not feel like fighting,' he thought, feeling suddenly very tired. He liked battle, but this was ridiculous! One could have too much of anything, and it had now, officially, become too much!

Fed up with the miserable warlords, Nohano leapt down from his perch, landing lightly on the ground in front of Kale. "Guess you want a rematch, loser?" Nohano challenged, drawing his katana.

Kale's dark eyes narrowed behind his mask, but he did not answer in words. He lunged for Nohano, sword thrust in front of him. Nohano parried, the clang of steel going right through his head. It was a frightening sound, that, one that set all of his nerves on edge and spiked adrenaline through his blood. Nohano ducked away from another vicious strike, crying out, "_Flare up now!_", and directing the firestorm at Kale's torso.

Kale cursed and sprang back, stumbling as he hit, caught only a grazing blow from Nohano's powerful attack. He raised his sword to retaliate, but Rashida bulldozed him from behind, knocking him asprawl in the dirt. Nohano laughed and gave a "thanks" feeling through the mind link, before spinning around to avoid Dais's vicious attack.

'Mental note," thought Nohano distractedly, 'Embarrass one, and the others come after you.'

Furious, Dais cried out something in Japanese that Amaya hastily translated through the link as meaning "Web of Deception", and Nohano was once again ducking the strange scythe weapons from Dais's fan. But he didn't seem to be aiming at Nohano, and he saw why a moment later. Sticky web strands shot from the scythes at him, and he gave a shout of alarm, swiping at the strands with one of his katana. He snarled as a second string of the web shot out and curled around his waist, pulling him roughly to the ground, pinning him tight. His katana flew from his hands and skittered across the stone as Nohano watched, horrified.

Dais grinned ghoulishly, then cried out in pain with one of Suisei's well-shot arrows sticking from his armor. He turned to shoot his scythes at Suisei, who leapt up into the air, higher than Nohano ever had.

The disconcerting thing was—he didn't come back down. Nohano was distracted for the moment from his helplessness, wondering what the hell had happened, what an elated cry came over the mind link. A feeling of soaring, a swooping feeling in his gut. It was impossible, Nohano couldn't believe it, but Suisei was _flying. _ Flying under his own power!

Holy shit, Suisei! called Xander even as he fought two of the newer warlords. His shields flashed on and off, fending off attacks from one, even as he fought the other with his energy weapons. He had learned to make swords, spears, and other, weirder things with his shield energy—once he'd learned to form them into shapes, deciding which shape was easy.

A shadow fell over Nohano and he looked up in alarm at Kale's sword, lifted high above the warlord's head, plunging at Nohano's torso. Nohano yelled and threw his arms up in front of him, unable to move more than that, screaming as the vicious plunge deflected off the spikes on his forearms and sank the blade through his left side, piercing the lighter white-colored armor and scraping against the ground beneath. Nohano screamed again as Kale lifted the blade out for another strike, but was taken down by a furious Shockwave attack from Suisei.

Xander ran over then, sliding to his knees beside Nohano and throwing up a shield as Shuang hurled his weighted chain at Nohano's head. Nohano gritted his teeth, fighting against the webs that bound him, but they were too tight to be pulled loose. It was only when Amaya kicked one of Nohano's katana within his reach that he was able to slice through the webs and roll over.

He struggled up to his knees, and then his feet, ignoring Rashida's mental admonition to stay put. Nohano could barely think. The pain was bad, the fear was strong, but his fury burned through all of that to the front of his mind. He clenched one hand around his katana, sprinting for the other one, and went after Kale with all he had.

Nohano was weakened but furious, not able to drive Kale back or gain the advantage, but not being beaten down, either. Arrows rained down from the sky, and Nohano's friends were very slowly gaining the advantage. Kale shouted an order in Japanese that Nohano recognized as a retreat, and the warlords broke off their attacks and slipped suddenly away, disappearing into the shadows. Kale leapt up onto a tall rock, grinning down at Nohano before disappearing in a flash of dark lightning.

"Asshole!" Xan snarled after him.

Nohano's energy drained suddenly, and he staggered, dropping his katana and banishing his too-heavy armor. He looked down in panic at the blood that stained his clothing from the top of his thigh to his armpit. He felt dizzy just looking at it.

Then the others were there, and Rashida grabbed his arm. Lie down, she urged, and Nohano let her assist him onto the ground, clenching his teeth against a scream of pain. He'd never been hurt like this before in his life, not even when he'd fought Kale and Dais in the tundra! You will be okay, said Rashida, her voice calm as she knelt by his side.

The girl put her hands on the wound in Nohano's flesh, and a brilliant green glow surrounded her hands and the area. Nohano groaned as he literally felt the injuries beginning to seal up; it hurt, but it wasn't the pain that bothered him. It was the horrible, awful, unnatural feel of his skin sealing together, like a zipper being closed.

And then the sensation was gone, and the pain with it. Nohano looked down, astonished, and gingerly touched his side with his hand. His clothing was still wet with blood and his skin was cold, but the injury wasn't there. "Even after seeing you do it with others," said Nohano shakily, "I still can't believe it. I owe you."

Rashida laughed a little tiredly. Remember what Xan said? No "owing" among us!

Nohano laughed, sitting up and grimacing at a wave of dizziness as he did.

Easy," said Rashida. You have still lost blood. You'll need to take it easy for a while.

Nohano sighed unhappily, biting his lip and nodding his head. He felt a sudden wave of inadequacy; seemed he was always being saved by someone! Why the hell was he the leader, again? He wasn't even sure he should be a Ronin! Maybe Amaya had been right that day at the Renaissance Faire. Maybe her ancestor _would_ be ashamed to know Nohano had his armor.

Seemingly not noticing Nohano's sudden downturn of mood, Rashida checked the others over to make sure they had not been injured. Amaya had a nasty gash on her head and Xander was bruised up, but declined treatment. "Forget it, it's not bad," he said. "You'll probably need as much energy as you can save."

Nohano noticed suddenly that Suisei was not yet among them, but was startled a moment later by a cry of jubilation. Suisei landed nearby, clumsily enough that he staggered and fell on his backside, but he was laughing all the same. "Amazing! It's—I—there aren't words for it! What I've dreamed of my whole life!" His dark eyes were wide, sparkling in the dim light of the pale sun, as he got up to his feet. "It's this armor! Air—Strata! It lets me fly! I just jumped and—I didn't land!"

Nohano finally had to laugh, pleased at the sheer delight on Suisei's face. "Hey, now you can _really_ be a comet, eh?"

Suisei laughed. "Definitely! I'd better practice with that. Can you imagine how much better it'll be to be able to shoot from where I can't be reached by those miserable jerks?"

"A great advantage," Amaya agreed with a smile. "But you'll want to be cautious. If your armor run out of energy while you fly..."

Suisei winced, sobering a little at the idea. "Yeah, that could get kinda messy. Okay, I won't overdo it—jeez, Nohano! Are you all right?"

He had obviously just seen the blood that soaked Nohano's shirt. "I'm okay," he said. "Rashida took care of it. It just looks bad." He slowly pulled off his shirt, wincing as the bloody cloth passed over his head, and looked at it. He was startled to see just how much he had bled. "Guess it looks pretty bad," he said dejectedly.

"Don't worry about it," said Xan with a casual shrug. "It's not like those assholes play fair. If you hadn't blocked it, Kale woulda killed you while you were pinned."

"They have no concept of honor," said Amaya in disgust, sitting next to Nohano.

Or their honor is so twisted, it can no longer be called honor, said Rashida, and Nohano thought she might be closer to the mark.

"What a lousy way to begin the day," grouched Nohano with a scowl. "I'm already wiped out."

You should sleep, said Rashida, pulling out Nohano's bedroll and spreading it on the ground.

"Okay," said Nohano weakly. After a moment, he looked down at his bloody pants and asked the others to look away for a moment. He shed his clothing and grabbed his backpack, using a bit of water from his bottle to clean his skin. Then he rummaged for the change of clothing he'd brought and managed to get himself dressed. Then he crawled onto his blanket and closed his eyes, wishing he had a nice, hot fire to lie down in. He barely felt someone covering him with another blanket before he was deeply asleep.

---

The next day, the Ronin enjoyed peace and quiet. The stream they had been following veered off to the left, but they had plenty and enough water containers to get them to Talpa's palace, and so none of them were very worried.

Nohano felt weak and tired, though he was better than he had been the night before. They set a somewhat slower pace, which grated on Nohano, but he knew it was either that or be left behind. Leaving him behind wasn't an option, as the other four quite firmly let him know when he suggested it. He insisted on carrying his own pack, however, and Amaya compromised by insisting she take turns with him since she'd lost hers and therefore was without a burden. They'd all been taking turns, anyway, so Nohano agreed.

"You mentioned another armor," said Nohano, as the group trekked through the rocklands. "Kick-a-something?"

Amaya giggled softly, amused by his mangling of the name. "_Kikoutei_. Sun armor, or Inferno. Yes."

"And you get it by combining all the armor?"

Amaya frowned a little, shaking her head. "Not quite. Yes, in a way. You do not have to have all armors for _Kikoutei_. Somehow, we can all put our power together, and use _rekka_—your armor—to make into Kikoutei. The legend says that the first Ronin discovered how he can make this armor and wore it as his own. I do not know if another armor can take in Kikoutei. Sanada Ryo always used _rekka_."

Nohano was quiet, then, wondering how many people had worn the armor he now bore. How many had fought with it, bled within in, felt its fire comforting them? It was not an uncomfortable feeling. He almost felt he could connect with all who had borne the noble armor. It wasn't just a protective suit; Nohano had known that the first time he'd felt the full armor entwining with his very spirit. It was an extension of his own spirit, his soul, that made him who he was. 'I would have liked to meet you, Sanada Ryo,' he thought fondly. And just for a moment, he thought he caught an image, an image of a boy his age, with dark skin, long black hair, and blue eyes. Just a glimpse, enough to see the good-natured grin on his face, and it was gone.

Nohano paused. "Amaya?" he asked. "Your blue eyes. Sanada...he had them, too?"

Amaya smiled, nodding her head. "Yes. I have told you this before?"

Not quite ready to share a vision that might not have even been real, Nohano nodded. "Must have," he murmured, but he thought about that boy...and how he must have felt realizing for the first time that he was a Ronin. Nohano felt sudden, complete sympathy for him!

---

Throughout the day, Suisei began hovering above the group as they walked, testing and trying the new ability he had discovered. Nohano was glad Suisei had found it; he knew how dearly he had wished he could fly, and how he had been learning to pilot an airplane. But flying on one's own had to be ten times better than piloting a plane!

When the group stopped for the night, Nohano was delighted to spy a mass of deadwood not too far away from their campsite. Summoning his riot gear, he walked over to it and set it ablaze, smiling as he nestled into the flaming tinder. He caught echoes of amusement through the mind link as he closed his eyes, feeling content for the first time in days.

You're mad and a half, accused Xan.

Nohano had to laugh. I never denied that! I am completely bug-nuts.

A sputter of laughter came from Rashida, who was apparently tickled by the term. I will remember that one, she said. It does look very strange, though. Anyone who did not know our secret would be convinced you had lost your mind.

Hey, said Nohano. I think we've already established that! He sighed in relief as the flames washed over him, and he closed his eyes.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the next thing he knew, Rashida was shaking him awake, asking him if he wanted breakfast. Breakfast? He opened his eyes and sat up, slightly startled when the charred wood beneath him crumbled, dumping him onto the ground. Rashida laughed, offering a hand up, and Nohano took it, looking down at himself. His riot gear was not even singed, but it was covered in soot and ash, and he smelled like a wood fire. He felt completely invigorated, the soreness and weariness from their travels gone with the flames. "You didn't wake me for a watch," he said in mild rebuke.

Amaya said we should let you sleep, Rashida explained as they walked back towards the main group, who had broken out the rations and were having a light breakfast. I agreed. You have recovered a great deal, I think.

"Say that in English," Nohano challenged with a grin, and was rewarded with a blink, and a mock-glare. Rashida finally rolled her eyes and did as she was bade, struggling through the whole thing with very few mistakes. "Great!" said Nohano, pleased, as he sat down. "Your English's getting better and better."

With you demanding I use it so often, it is no wonder, she retorted, and before Nohano could say it, repeated it aloud in English. Nohano laughed, nodding his head and giving her the thumbs-up.

"English lesson, eh?" said Xander, looking amused.

"Definitely," said Nohano. "She's getting too good. I gotta find more difficult things to spring on her."

"Please," said Rashida, chuckling and holding up a hand. "Let us wait for difficult when we are out of this place."

Nohano certainly couldn't argue. Especially when he discovered just how close they were getting to their destination. The circle of mountains loomed like their fate, stark and malevolent against the dark sky. "Tomorrow," he murmured. "We're gonna get there tomorrow, aren't we?"

"I think we will," said Amaya, sighing a little. "It's horrible. It is a horrible place."

"I know," said Nohano, thinking that his best friend was in there already, and had been for nearly a week. He had managed not to think of it for the most part, because it brought him close to panic every time he did, but the closer they got the more it entered his mind. He looked over to Suisei and Rashida, who seemed to be thinking the same things. It was strange, how people had sort of grouped up. Nohano and Killian had become friends quickly, and best friends soon thereafter. Xander had managed to open up enough to join their close friendship. Rashida and Demetrius were very close, and of course Suisei and Tarun were as father and son. Amaya was the only one who hadn't really bonded with any one person. Her loyalty and caring was equal with everyone.

But even with the individual groupings among them all, every one of them would give his or her life for any one else, no matter which Ronin it was. They were close, a true family.

Nohano had never really understood the concept of family before, having none himself. He'd not thought he needed a family, having never experienced it and having done just fine on his own. But now he truly knew what a family was, and couldn't imagine being without it. It would leave a huge hole in his spirit if he were to lose any one member of it.

Nohano smiled suddenly and slung an arm around Xander, who sat beside him. Xan gave him a curious glance, but Nohano only grinned at him before getting into his breakfast supplies. 'We'll get you out of there, guys,' he thought. 'We've come too far to fail now.'

---

The mountains were there sooner than Nohano had expected, and he almost swore they'd jumped out to land at his feet. By twilight, they had reached the first of the stark peaks, after traversing several miles worth of cliff-like terrain. A largish plateau rose a short distance away, and Nohano suggested they camp there before trying to tackle the maze within that would lead them to Talpa's valley and his palace. The others agreed, and they spent nearly an hour getting there. They could have camped among the crags and cliffs, but Nohano had not forgotten the rockslide they'd escaped from, and didn't want to repeat the experience.

The next morning, after a rather meager breakfast, the Ronin Warriors stood before the entrance to the maze, a small, cracked opening in the rock. The horror of Nohano's nightmare returned in force, and he began to shake, taking a big breath and forcing himself to calm down. 'All right. Your best friend's in there. You're going in.' Turning to the others, he sort of shrugged as if to say, "well, here it is."

It's going to be very dark in there, grumbled Rashida.

"That's okay," said Xan. "We've got flashlights."

"You know," said Nohano suddenly, "Those flashlights are not going to work here."

Everyone was silent for a moment, realizing that Nohano was right; nothing electronic seemed to work in this miserable place, and that would include the lights! Xander took his out to test it, but tossed it away in disgust when it refused to light.

"Torches," said Amaya. "We'll make torches. We have enough fabric and tinder that we can make some."

I can light the way if we need, said Rashida.

"I know," said Nohano. "Your armor is an uber flashlight." Rashida chuckled. "But it will take far less energy for me to light a torch that will keep burning than for you to continuously emit light. And it's a lot easier for me to recharge than you. There's not a whole lot of light in this miserable place for you."

I know, said Rashida sourly. Nohano imagined she didn't care much for this place. It really was lousy for gaining energy!

"We'll definitely need all the power we can get," said Suisei. His expression was set into a grim, determined glare, and Nohano almost felt sorry for Talpa. Talpa had Suisei's son, and a pissed off father is one of the most dangerous things in the world.

The group spent a half-hour gathering materials for and making the torches; they had enough for three of them, which was plenty and enough to light their way. At least it would prevent them falling into a precipice (he hoped), and would help in making sure they didn't get lost. Finally they stood before the entrance once more, and Nohano shrugged, taking one of the torches and lighting it. They used that torch to light the others, and Nohano peered into the cavern. "Well," he said. "Let's go."

Suisei, having discovered his ability to fly, and raining arrows on the enemy. (I am quite proud of this picture!)

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	37. Twisted Beauty

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 37: Twisted Beauty**

Killian was very bored...but he reveled in it. He, Tarun, and Demetrius had been left strictly alone now for at least two days, but he thought it might have been three. The only time the doors at the end of the cavern chamber were opened was for one of the lesser warlords to poke his head in, check on them, and leave a plate of food.

It had been a great surprise when they'd first left food for the group, and Killian suspected at first it might be drugged or poisoned. But then he'd remembered Demetrius's ordeal and realized that Talpa's miserable goons didn't need to resort to trickery to poison them. They'd do it outright and describe the whole process as they did.

The plate had been filled with a loaf of bread and some very odd-looking fruit that didn't taste half bad. None of them had been fed during their imprisonment, and though having water was some relief, it was no substitute for food. Killian had to force himself to eat slowly so as not to get sick, but by the gods it was good to get some food in his gut!

As the hours and then days passed, fear turned to boredom, but Killian did not mind. It meant that no one was torturing them, and they were able to begin regaining their strength. He didn't know why Talpa was allowing this, but for the moment he wasn't about to argue.

The best part about the whole thing was that they were able to begin regaining their spirits. Tarun had woken the two older boys with his cries during that first night, and Killian had spent fifteen minutes calming the boy from his nightmare. But by the next night, Tarun had taken to racing around the chamber, both in and out of armor. He began singing again, something that was comforting to Killian and Demetrius, and Killian was grateful he was bouncing back so quickly. He suspected having his armor on again helped, but not all of it. He was a courageous child, and his spirit could never be permanently squashed. It was a relief. Seeing the blood on the kid, looking at his half-shredded kabaddi uniform, Killian had felt like crying. He _had_ cried, in fact. But Tarun had since cleaned up and looked far better.

Demetrius was recovering, too, quite faster than Tarun had. Killian had been able to take the poison from him completely, and without the vile stuff in his system, and with a cavern full of rock to take strength from, it had not taken long for Demetrius to regain his strength. As for Killian, all he needed was the water, and he had plenty of that.

That third day, sometime around noon according to Tarun, Killian was tickling a giggling the kid and Demetrius had discovered he had the ability to gouge out stone with his hands while armored up. As Killian and Tarun roughhoused, he had taken to seeing if he could use this ability to tunnel out of the cavern, gouging out great chunks of rock and tossing them aside. After nearly being hit by one, Killian had moved the tickling match to the other side of the cavern.

However things didn't go much farther than that. The doors suddenly opened, and everyone stopped what they were doing, Demetrius hastily banishing his main armor and trying not to look too guilty, and Tarun standing up and summoning his riot gear. Chills washed over Killian as Talpa strode into the chamber, flanked by all of his warlords, and gazed at his three prisoners. Killian suddenly felt very inadequate, standing in the middle of an underground pool with only two of his comrades with him. Talpa alone made a very frightening sight, without ten warlords standing at his sides.

Shit, said Demetrius, moving so that he was in front of Tarun. Tarun caught sight of the woman, Jin Tanaka, and made a quiet, scared noise, grasping Demetrius's hand. Killian caught a burst of terror from him on seeing the woman, and narrowed his eyes furiously. "What do you want?" he asked rudely, sounding far braver than he felt.

Talpa didn't answer, and Killian wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or worried. When he looked at the grim visages of the warlords, he began leaning towards worried. But when light flared behind the bastards, making Demetrius hiss and cover his eyes, the worry went straight to outright fear. Several Nether Spirits floated into the chamber, all of them facing the little group of Ronin, hovering just beyond their reach. 'As if I'd want to touch one of the foul things!' Killian thought, backing up a step despite himself. He didn't think they were here just to drain their power, else Talpa and his Goon Squad wouldn't be here, watching! He was certainly something horrible was about to happen.

He glanced at Demetrius, who squinted up at the spirits, his hands clenched defiantly. Tarun scowled angrily up at them, shifting his gaze from them to the warlords. Killian finally looked back at Talpa, summoning his nerve, and began to ask: "What're you--"

The first of the spirits, the one closest to Killian, suddenly shot towards him, as if meaning to tackle him to the ground. Killian yelled in alarm, and then in agony as the Spirit didn't collide with him—it _entered_ him. A horrid rending, searing pain went through his entire being, as his world became nothing but sick, tainted, orange light-energy—for just a moment he felt as if he had no body at all, that it had become a part of the awful light. He couldn't even begin to bear the pain; any more of it and his mind would snap like a toothpick.

And then it was gone, just like that, and he was on his knees in the water. He stood—except it wasn't him standing. A dire panic came over him as he tried to move his hand, and could not—but something else did. Something else was there with him, alongside his mind, alongside his very spirit. The orange glow flickered faintly around his eyes, reaching deep in his mind, blurring his vision and nearly obscuring the world in front of him. 'It's possessed me,' he thought in horrified amazement. 'Oh my God! No, let me go—stop it, let me go!' His thoughts dissolved into a near-frenzied panic as he tried to fight, battling to drive out the entity that had so easily taken control of his physical body. He was still there, his mind was still feeling and seeing everything, but he had never been shoved rudely into the backseat of his own mind, watching as if from the outside his body walking and—talking!

Tarun looked as if he had succumbed also, standing in the water and looking stunned, but Demetrius's expression was that of excruciating pain—he was still fighting. Suddenly proud of him, hoping beyond hope he could shake off the intrusion, Killian silently cheered for him. Strong in body and mind, more stubborn than a dozen mules, Demetrius looked as if he might just succeed.

And then Killian spoke. He heard himself speak, and it sounded like it always did, except that he never, ever would have said what he did. "Don't fight, my friend," he said, putting a hand on Demetrius's shoulder, feeling his face twist into a look of deep concern. 'What am I doing?' he thought frantically. 'No, I can't say that—I'm telling him to give up to the enemy!'

And it wasn't just him, either. Tarun looked up, seemingly about to cry, entreating Demetrius to stop before they hurt him, or even killed him. Killian never knew if Demetrius could have shaken off the Nether Spirits' attack without Tarun and Killian urging him to give up, but in the end the Russian boy lost his battle. The pain on his face melted into calm, if somewhat tired complacency. From his knees, he stood, smiling serenely at Killian, and Killian was shocked to feel himself smiling back. 'Completely control,' thought Killian, feeling like he wanted to faint. 'They've got total and complete control of us...but not my mind! Not my mind!' He closed his eyes—or rather tried to—and gave up when he couldn't do it. Instead he had to focus his mind while trying to ignore the very great distraction of the warlords' laughter, and Talpa's pleased voice, saying something...

Killian tried to reach out through the mind link to Demetrius and Tarun. He strained to focus his thoughts, to break through the horrible, filthy presence of the Nether Spirits, but he could not; their barrier was too great. Like Sekhmet's poisons had prevented Killian from reaching Demetrius, the Nether Spirits' dark energy kept him bound within his own mind, alone and helpless—helpless in every way.

"Excellent," murmured Talpa as Killian and the others slowly approached. "Excellent, my little Ronin. Your strength has returned, and your wounds have been healed. You will go to battle today, little warriors. You will go to battle against your comrades, and ensure our victory!"

'No," Killian thought, stunned, every bit of his attention now focused on Talpa. He couldn't manage to think anything else, only a desperate negation of what Talpa was saying.

"You see, Torrent?" said Dais, chuckling. "You see how easily your mind was taken over by the dark powers? You resist now, my brother. You fight and despair. But that will soon fade as you come to know our master's power."

"The Ronin approach," said Talpa, turning to his warlords. "Be ready. When they reach my palace, we will greet them. All of us."

Killian realized with a mixture of ire and horror that Talpa had been addressed him, Tarun, and Killian along with his warlords, and was furious as he bowed along with the rest, hearing his own voice answer, "Hai," a word he knew meant "yes".

'Oh, God, Nohano...I'm sorry," he thought hopelessly as he marched out of the chamber. 'If we meet in battle...I'm sorry!'

---

Nohano's group spent very little time within the maze of the mountain. It was nothing to the maze that Rashida had been cast into when the Ronin had been scattered, and she was able to figure this one out quickly enough. He was glad to make it out easily, but less than thrilled at the sight that met his eyes.

There it was. It was real, in front of Nohano's eyes, the evil ten times what he had felt in his nightmare. For just a moment he thought he might be buried in it, before he took a big breath and let himself feel the comforting warmth of Wildfire...of _rekka_.

"Oh, great," spat Xan bluntly, looking around in disgust. "What a dump."

"A grievous understatement," said Suisei, gazing into the valley.

The lands below them spread out for miles, it seemed, filled with dark stone buildings, and large, bare patched of stone and dirt. There were lakes and ponds, and trees bearing pink leaves...or blossoms, Nohano wasn't sure which. There were gardens of flowers, right alongside crags of black stone and metal barracks. Towers and spires rose towards the dark sky, stark and absolute. And right in the middle of it all, the filthy pagoda shape of Talpa's palace.

When Nohano had dreamt, he had come out onto this view, and looked at the pagoda. He had looked towards a door that to his horror was easily visible from where they stood, and had seen him—the empty-masked demon Talpa. Nohano was slightly reassured when he stared at the door and it remained firmly closed, but only slightly.

Twisted beauty, hissed Amaya through the link, revulsion pulsing through her thought-voice.

"My God," Suisei whispered. "Tarun's in there."

Nohano had known that, and he had known how terrible the place was. But somehow, hearing the horror in Suisei's voice when he realized his adopted child was imprisoned there made it all the worse. Nohano clenched his fists, the sudden desire to rip the place apart with his bare hands too distracting to deal with. He tried hard to calm down.

"What will we do?" asked Amaya, looking to Nohano.

For once, Nohano didn't feel the uncertainty, the lack of confidence he usually did when looked to for a decision. His family was in there, and he was going to get them out, even if it meant his life. "Just go in," he said, shaking his head slowly. "Armor up and go in. He knows we're here; Kale wouldn't have attacked us otherwise. They know we're here, and have to know we're after our friends. Just be very careful. We're walking right into a trap, I know it."

But that does not mean we must close its jaws around us ourselves, said Rashida grimly. Knowing we are approaching a trap will help us.

"Exactly," said Nohano. "Come on—let's go. Whatever happens—try not to get split up. This would be a very bad place to be stuck alone in."

He watched as his friends silently summoned their armor, and did the same himself, looking down at the hateful valley and wondering if they were being watched at that moment.

The climb down from their vantage point was an easy one, and soon the five Ronin stood at the edge of the valley, peering into the dark alleyways and shadowed spaces between the buildings. From what Nohano could tell, most of them were living quarters (storage sheds?) for the Dynasty soldiers. He saw several groups of them going in and out, and he and his friends tried their best to stay out of sight. They didn't want to fight before they absolutely had to, saving their energy for when the time came.


	38. Fighting the Torrent

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 38: Fighting the Torrent**

For at least fifteen minutes, the young warriors' presence went unnoticed as they skulked around the shadows and took cover behind rocks and trees and other various "decorations". Of course they couldn't get through completely undetected, Nohano would think later. That would have been way too easy. They were spotted by one of the several soldier patrols, bringing down at least two dozen of the evil things on them—easily fought, but all the time increasing their risk of being seen by worse foes.

But luck seemed to be with them—if one could call it luck. Nohano's group met several more patrols of soldiers, but were able to destroy them with little expenditure of energy, and they saw neither hide nor hair of the warlords. Or Talpa.

Each step took them closer to the palace, to the evil that radiated out like heat from an unclean, obscene sun, and Nohano hated every spire.

"Talpa can't be killed, can he?" asked Nohano dispiritedly as they slowly, relentlessly approached. They were so close now that the palace blotted out nearly everything else. They traveled alongside a lake that had Nohano a little nervous, but luckily they did not have to get very close.

"No," said Amaya quietly. "He is a demon. He cannot die. Only to be defeat. Defeated."

"Well that sucks," said Xander, sounding gruffer than ever. "Asshole—what did the last group of Ronin do to him last time to send him into hiding so long?"

"They fought him," said Amaya. "Reduced his power. He must be strong to break into the mortal world."

"So the worse he gets his ass kicked, the longer he stays away?"

Amaya nodded. "Yes."

"Guess we just have to kick his ass all over again then, huh?"

"It will not be so easy," said Amaya, frowning a little at Xan's seeming overconfidence.

Xan sighed, his mouth twisting into a look of irritation—not at Amaya, Nohano realized, but at Talpa. "No, guess not, huh? Won't stop me trying, though."

"I think we all will do a little of that," said Suisei. "Or more than a little."

The little group stood before the palace in late afternoon, gazing in dismay at the malevolent structure. Nohano, on the other hand, gazed in dismay at the moat that surrounded the fortress, with only a few bridges here and there leading towards the inner grounds. "That's just perfect," Nohano hissed. Already he was too close to it; he couldn't imagine walking out onto the bridges, with only flimsy wood beneath his feet, keeping him from plunging into the waters.

I think we may be attacked when we step foot on those bridges, commenting Rashida dourly. It would be a perfect spot for an ambush.

Great. That's just what he needed to hear.

Will you be all right, Nohano?

At Amaya's concerned voice, Nohano looked quickly around, suddenly aware he'd not moved for about five minutes, just staring at the water. He bit his lip briefly, then nodded. "Yes," he said, though he wasn't all that certain. "I'll live. Let's...let's just get this over with."

Amaya grasped his arm for a moment then turned back to the palace, stepping out onto the first of the bridges. Nohano winced, expecting the bridge to collapse, or for Kale and his warlords to descend upon them, or for the water to rise up and swallow her. Of course none of these things happened, even when Xan, Rashida, and Suisei followed. Nohano took a big breath and took a shaky step onto the bridge.

It held just fine under his weight, though that fact did not stop the rush of panic that threatened to blank his mind. He closed his eyes, feeling his way along the bridge, clutching the handrails and following the clattering footfalls of his friends. It helped, a little.

"Look," said Suisei suddenly, making him jump. "This water's not more than knee-deep. How odd."

Nohano didn't care how deep it was. There was a lot of it, and that was all that mattered. It would be nearly impossible to avoid it. However he did manage to open his eyes, looking up at Talpa's palace, which was, ironically enough, a more pleasant sight than the strange moat. At least the pagoda was kind of cool looking.

I'm proud of you, Nohano, said Amaya with a sort of mental smile several minutes later.

Nohano blinked and looked at her, managing a sort of sick grin at her sincere praise, then looked back at their destination,. His smiled fading. They had arrived. There stood before them a large, ornate set of doors that led into Talpa's palace, standing on a strange sort of dock that rose from the shallow water.

"So now what?" asked Xan, then shrugged and answered his own question, walking to the door and giving it a tug. As was to be expected, it didn't budge.

I could break it down, perhaps, with my lightning cut, said Rashida. Though if we could get in without using so much energy it would be better.

"I wonder if I can make a lock-pick with these shields," muttered Xan, looking down at his hands for a moment.

"It would not matter," said Amaya. "This palace would not have a lock—too modern in technology. It will be barred from inside.

"Oh. Well in that case--" Xan formed a long, thin shield and held it in his hands. No matter how many times Xander did it, Nohano always enjoyed watching it. It was like Xander held a shaft of light, or a string of lightning in his hands. It wasn't something that should be solid.

Xander slid the shield in between the two doors, grunting with effort as he attempt to feel the bar that might be holding the doors shut. Rashida stepped forward to help, grasping the shield and lending her strength. Nohano and the others watched several steps behind, their weapons drawn, in case of trouble.

When trouble came, it was not in a form that anyone suspected. A sudden laugh from above startled them all; Nohano took a hasty step back, then screamed as the heel of his foot slipped off the pier towards the water, frantically pinwheeling his arms for balance. He dropped hastily to his knees, his hands on the dock, his swords dropped before him on the pier. He froze, trembling, unable to move for several moments, while Talpa cackled above. Nohano looked up finally, clenching the edge of the dock with one hand.

There he was. Standing on one of the many pagoda platforms of the fortress, clad head to foot in dark armor, laughing down at them, stood the demon, the horrid creature Nohano had dreamt of. His blood-red mask seemed to stand out in the gloom of the realm, its vacant eyes boring through Nohano's mind. "Ah, welcome to my palace, Ronin Warriors!" he cried, mock hospitality in his voice. He looked down at Nohano and chuckled. "Ah, the mighty leader of the Ronin Warrior, frozen, terrified, by a children's pool. How pathetic."

Nohano's face grew hot, and his eyes narrowed. "Asshole!" he growled. He was grateful for the anger; it gave him the strength to break through his paralysis, giving him something besides the water to focus on. He grabbed his katana and stood, taking several steps away from the edge of the pier.

"Is this how a guest greets his host?" called Talpa, laughing again. "Ah, but perhaps you do not come in peace."

"Damn right we don't come in peace, you pukepot!" Xander called, shaking a fist up at the specter. "Come down here and face us!"

"Ah, but that would spoil the effect—you come here after your friends, I assume?"

Nohano frowned, not liking the smirk that he could sense even all the way from the ground. It wasn't even a physical smirk, for Talpa's mask was rigid, but it was something he could feel. A horrible coldness swept over him. Had he already killed the others? "What did you do with them?" Nohano called. "Damn it, let them go!"

"Why don't you ask the lads yourself?" Talpa called. "Dark warlords! Come and greet our guests!"

It was obvious they had been waiting for this signal. The great doors began to open, and Xan and Rashida sprang away from it, Rashida grabbing up her longsword and Xander forming a spear of energy. Nohano felt his gut twist as Kale strode out of the doors, followed by several others, all clad in armor. But they were not all warlords.

The clench in Nohano's stomach tightened painfully when he saw the flash of bright yellow, then orange and aqua blue. "Killian..." But Killian was not bound, nor was he held at weapon point. He stood beside Tai Shuang, as if they were old friends, and Demetrius and Tarun stood also by the warlords' side. Shuang leered at Nohano from behind his mask, as Nohano stared, horrified.

"What have you done to them?" Rashida demanded, furiously. Nohano rarely saw the girl lose her temper, but when she did, it was a force to be reckoned with.

"I've done nothing!" Talpa answered, laughing. "They have simply succumbed to the power of their armor! You must know that their armor once belonged to me, Halo, as did yours! And these new armors, designed to connect intimately with the original armors, have fallen easily under my influence!"

"No," Nohano whispered, looking into Killian's eyes. Killian—Killian, it can't be you! But there was no connection at all, and Nohano was close enough that he should be able to reach him. He began to panic, thinking Talpa really had brainwashed them.

"Our master is right," said Kale softly, looking right at Nohano. "We were destined to be one, our armor was connected hundreds of years ago. It is time it was reunited under one master."

Nohano looked frantically at Amaya, who gazed at Kale with the utmost loathing. What the hell is he talking about? That stupid jerk's trying to pull us to the dark side!

What he says is true, in essence, said Amaya. But we are not destined to join him. The armors were once Arago's. You know that. But the Ancient once changed the armors he had, gave them virtues. The warlords corrupted them. Keep your heart pure, Nohano, and the armor cannot be corrupted. Your virtue cannot be tainted except by your own self.

Amaya's words were grim and frightening, but they were somehow a comfort. He looked back at Killian, who was nodding in agreement with Kale, and felt a surge of fury. He didn't know if Killian had been tricked into succumbing, or if they had done something to his friend, but he was going to find out.

Nohano looked back at Kale, raising his katana. "Forget it, dogbreath," he said, being as rude as he could possibly manage. "Maybe you weren't strong enough to resist Talpa's corruption, but I am—let our friends go, and we'll leave in peace!"

Above them, Talpa began to laugh again, and it was a horrible sound—several of the warlords laughed as well, though Kale only gazed at Nohano with an expression Nohano could not read behind the mask. Hatred, maybe, or even regret. 'He really wants us to join him!' he thought, astonished. 'And I don't think it's just the power the armor will give his master! He really thinks the armors belong together!'

"Warlords—attack!"

All hell broke loose at Talpa's command. The ten warlords ran at the little group with weapons blazing, flashing, and flying. Nohano leapt into the air, landing clumsily in the middle of the pier, striking out with his katana at the nearest warlords, his eyes darting back and forth for the sight of his friends' armor. He could not harm them, no matter what; he had to find out what was wrong with them! Just seeing his best friends raising their weapons against Nohano, to see them standing with the enemy, made Nohano want to cry.

"_Super Wave Smasher!"_

Nohano spun around at Killian's voice, a chill going through him at the wave of watery energy that flew at him from Killian's _yari._ Nohano yelled and threw himself flat on the pier, barely avoiding the powerful energy. He ducked behind the warlord Tai Shuang as Killian cried a second attack, and the startled Shuang took the brunt of the attack, flying several meters away. Nohano faced Killian once again. "Killian, no!" he cried. "Fight it—you aren't one of them! Look at me, you've got to fight it! _Please!"_

He cursed as Killian flew at him, leaping up and aiming for his head with his metal boots. Killian's foot grazed Nohano's shoulder as he dodged, knocking him onto the pier. He had to duck a second attack from one of the others, not even seeing who it was that had attacked him, only that it was someone who wielded a sword. Nohano darted away from the main fighters, trying to ignore the clash of steel and the furious cries of the fighters. They'd never been so badly outnumbered in their lives.

He looked once more at Killian, whose expression briefly flashed into one of pain, and Nohano suddenly realized that Killian was in there somewhere, that he was being influenced by something out of his control. Talpa. Talpa did this to him—and he stands there above everything like a coward! 'He doesn't even have to fight,' Nohano realized with growing terror. 'All he has to do is watch us die.'

A cry of pain from Rashida distracted him, and he saw that both Demetrius and Tai Shuang had ganged up on her. "Damn it," Nohano hissed, sprinting at them with his katana drawn. But he never reached them. As his foot came down on the wooden dock, there was suddenly nothing beneath him, and he was falling with a cry of shock. He heard someone laugh from above, before the dock closed back up, and Nohano fell through the blackness.

He heard himself screaming, more a reflex than anything else, before he landed, hard. Water splashed around him, and he screamed again, this time in terror, as he scrambled to his feet. Frozen again with fear, he looked frantically around, his breath coming in short gasps. Knee-high. It was okay, the water was only knee-high. But the chamber was covered in it-- Blue flamed candles lit the little room and glinted threateningly off the surface of the water. The room was not much more than a little cave with a natural support beam in the middle and three chutes that led, he realized, above. There were a couple of larger openings, ones that he might be able to escape from, but they were sealed up. But it was wood. If he could set fire to them...

Nohano looked down again, his chest clenching at the sight of all the water below him. He closed his eyes and looked upwards, taking in a big breath. He could barely feel it against his legs, the armor shielding him from most of it, which helped. He cursed himself for his fear, and cursed Talpa for his rotten, insidious realm!

It took several minutes and the horrible mental image of his friends being ruthlessly slain to get Nohano moving. He could only hope that Talpa aimed to capture them, not kill them, as he sloshed slowly towards the large openings, trying to ignore the pull of the water on his feet, and the nerve-wracking, echoing splashes. He tried to remember Talpa's mocking laugh, his comment about being afraid of a kiddy pool, which helped a little bit. If he could only hold on to that anger!

The mental flashes from his friends were not encouraging. Everyone was trying their best not to hurt Killian, Demetrius, and Tarun, but those three were at least as fierce as the warlords were. The rest of the Ronins were trying to retreat, to find a place to regroup, but they were being chased down, across the bridges, through the shallow waters...

Nohano took a big breath and faced one of the wood-sealed opening, combining his katana for his flare attack, crying the words and directing a powerful beam of fire at the wood. He realized a moment later he had made a dire mistake when the wood splintered, and splashes of water spurted through the damaged floodgate. Nohano shrieked as the wood broke through, unleashing a torrent of water on him, knocking him over, washing over him with suffocating force. His cry was lost in the rush, as he flailed around for purchase, terror overcoming everything else. His mental contact with his friends was broken as he choked down a mouthful of water, washed helplessly away from the support pillar, the only thing he could have grabbed onto.

The Wildfire swords were lost as Nohano bashed against the far wall, gasping in a breath of air as the wave receded for just a moment, giving him time only to gasp in another breath. Suddenly he was six years old again, screaming from his nightmares, dreams where water would come and wash him away, down into the abyss, or out to sea, where there was no land in sight. All he could do was shriek with childish, mindless terror.

Not even in his most vivid dreams, though, was the terror this sharp—he could never have imagined how it felt to choke down water, to breathe and have no air, to feel his throat burned as he tried to clear his airways.

But then...his airways _were_ clear. His panic-stricken mind had taken several moments to realize it, but even as Nohano was forced screaming underwater, even as he was tossed helplessly around the tiny chamber—he was breathing. The mask—the same mask that had extended in the tundra to shield him from the deadly cold, was doing the same now, keeping the water away from his mouth. Nohano choked on a relieved sob, gasping in a lungful of air, glad even for the burning of his throat. It meant he was breathing.

There was another rending crack of wood, and Nohano realized that the second of the large chutes had been cleared. With a jolt of panic, he was swept towards the opening, wondering wildly if he would land in water or on stone. His hands grabbed blindly at the walls, the floor, but there was no purchase there. Screaming again, he was swept out with the water, his stomach clenching into a knot as he fell through the air.

And then he hit something solid. His front slammed into something uneven, knocking the breath from his lungs, smashing his mask against his face. He felt hot blood run from his nose as he struggled to regain his breath, grabbing at the thing he'd landed on. The water was gone, falling below him to the ground, which seemed like it was a mile down. He looked, catching a glimpse of his katana, falling also, and swore viciously. The mask retreated from his face, and cool air wafted across his blood-streaked face.

Nohano clung to an impossibly giant tree, dead, gnarled, and black. It seemed to be the support for the entire, huge chamber—he didn't know what was at the bottom, only that if he let go, he'd be killed when he hit, armor or not. He suddenly felt as it the warlord Cade had shot one of his arrows into him, despair overcoming his mind. He shut his eyes, leaning his forehead against the tree, gripping its gnarled trunk, his feet gaining only the most precarious hold. He tasted blood and tears both as he wept, unable to do anything else.

'I can't do it,' he thought desperately. He'd tried so long, had overcome so much, but now—there was nothing more left in him! He feared his friends dead or taken over by Talpa, and images of the destruction of San Francisco swam before his eyes. How could eight kids fight that? How had the original group done it with only five? How had they fought against such impossible odds? How had Sanada borne the awful responsibility? "I wish you were here to bear this armor, Sanada Ryo, because I...just...can't."


	39. Wildfire and Inferno

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 39: Wildfire and Inferno**

Something strange happened then, something familiar and comforting. The image Nohano had seen before, the image of the boy with black hair and blue eyes, returned before him, but this time it did not leave. Nohano stared, wondering if he'd gone insane. The boy laughed, but it wasn't a mocking laugh; warmth and compassion shone in his blue eyes, looking so much like Amaya's, but quicker to affection. His black hair fell in a mane behind him, half in his eyes, and he was clad in the familiar red riot gear. "It'll be all right, Nohano Kalama," said the boy with a warm smile. "_Rekka_ chose you, and it chose you for your courage, and your spirit."

"S-Sanada?" Nohano whispered.

The boy winced slightly, then laughed again. "Call me Ryo. Sanada's my last name."

Nohano shook his head, suddenly grateful that this...ghost? Vision? Hallucination?...whatever it was, Nohano was intensely grateful it was here, and able to talk to him. Ryo's voice was light and good-natured, touched by a very strong Japanese accent, though he seemed to speak English well.

Nohano could not manage to speak, but he didn't need to. Ryo seemed to know.

"It's all right," said Ryo. "I know it seems hopeless, but it's not. Your friends are safe, for now. Talpa won't kill them—he needs the armors. And he needs you alive to power the armors when he gets them together. So he won't kill them yet."

_Yet._ The word was somehow horrible in its threat. "H-He's got them?"

"Yes. But you can save them. And I think you know how."

Nohano blinked, staring. "Kick---Kiko--" He snarled with frustration. "The Inferno armor!"

Ryo smiled proudly. "Yes. I know you've never done it before. But you can. You must join the powers of the armor. The others can give you their power, focus it within you, and you can channel it through the _rekka _armor. It will transform to Inferno, then, with everyone's power behind it. You can free the others with _Kikoutei_."

Nohano bit his lip, looking down, trying to grasp the enormity of the task before him. If what this boy—Sanada Ryo—said was true, his friends were already prisoners or near to it, and the only way he could free them was to do something he'd never done before in his life! "What weapons will I have?" he asked finally, wanting to get all the information he could before Ryo left him.

"Your katana," said Ryo, "but they will be a little different, and far more powerful than you've experienced. My friends are with the others now, guiding them also. You've discovered the most secret ability of your armor, something you find only when your bond with it has become its strongest. I discovered it much later—the ability to contact those who have worn the armor before you. Cye and Kento are having some difficulty—your three friends have been possessed by Nether Spirits."

"Bastards," Nohano spat.

"You can free them. Go ahead and climb down this miserable tree—there's a small door down there. You can get in through there. You'll know what to do." Ryo smiled, the gesture sending a surge of strength through Nohano. "Good luck, Kalama."

Nohano laughed weakly. "Call me Nohano," he said, leaning exhaustedly against the trunk of the tree. Ryo grinned in reply before his presence faded gently, and Nohano was once again alone. But he was no longer terrified—he was filled with a sudden confidence. He could do this.

But he had to be quick. Someone might already be on the way to collect him and take him to join his friends.

The climb down was exhausting, and by the time Nohano managed to reach a height he was comfortable jumping from, his hands felt numb from gripping the slippery handholds. When he leapt down, he landed on another of those wretched docks, but was surprised to find that the terror no longer threatened. He didn't know if after the deluge, a little knee-deep water wasn't so bad, or if he was too tired to care...or maybe because Ryo was hanging around after all, lending him a bit of strength. He ignored the water and strode wearily towards the doorway Ryo had told him of, looking puny after the huge, gaudy doors they'd tried to get through above.

Ryo was right, though. Once inside, Nohano seemed to know what to do. He worked on instincts, running through darkened corridors, searching for the presence, the minds of his family. Something about this horrible place seemed to cut their range down greatly, but Nohano thought that was a good thing—because once he _did_ get in range, it would let him know he was close.

The palace was huge, full of corridors and chambers. But no enemies hampered him there. No soldiers seemed to den within the palace, either, though he did catch sight of the horrid glow of the Nether Spirits once or twice, managing to avoid their notice. Worry and rage both clashed within his mind as he hurried down the dark hallways and up flights of narrow, stone stairs. Every moment he strained to catch a sound, any sign he was getting close.

Nohano halted suddenly at the end of the corridor, a sudden image blinking into focus, an echo of sound. 'I'm close,' he thought, edging forward, the link beginning to strengthen. 'They're behind those doors.' At the other end of the corridor stood heavy, wooden doors, barring his way, and his friends were behind it.

He caught flashes of what was happening—they'd been rounded up and thrown into a vast chamber with toxic looking orange water. Killian, Demetrius, and Tarun still stood with the warlords, while the Nether Spirits attacked his friends, draining their power. Nohano took in a sharp breath, fury suddenly overcoming him. He realized that with this Inferno, he could pay Talpa back for what he'd done to his city, and to his friends. Sheer determination overcame him, and he forgot his fear, his doubt, and his pain.

Nohano stood quietly for several minutes, listening to the warlords jeering at his friends, hearing Xan call someone a word even Nohano never dared to say, and heard Rashida threaten someone in Urdu. He heard Talpa's laughter, and that, more than anything, fanned the fury. Ducking down an adjoining corridor, Nohano clenched his fists, trying to figure out just how he was to summon this Inferno. Combine the armors' power...

He closed his eyes, searching not for his friends' minds, but for the core of their armor, their spirit. They were all in full armor still, trying to fend off the Nether Spirits, but one by one he could feel them stop, suddenly aware of his presence, and somehow understanding what he needed. The impression of colored spheres came to Nohano, turning him cold. If those spheres were really there, Talpa would know what they meant!

The first jolt of power shocked him; he was almost knocked onto his back by a radiating surge of dark-blue light, and his spirit suddenly felt the joy Amaya must feel when gazing up at the moon, or being cradled in the darkness of Night. The sudden, brilliant light of Halo lit his mind next, filling it with wisdom and grace. The gray of Twilight was not stifling, but comforting, its power shielding him from any harm, and the sheer exhilaration of flight came from Strata, its sky blue joining the others within Nohano.

Energy, unlike any he had never felt, or imagined. It thrummed through him as if he were a high tension power line, swirling in his mind, increasing his power tenfold. He almost panicked, realizing the enormous might of that power, what he could do with it, afraid of what could happen if it ever went out of control.

But still it was not complete. Even as he heard cries of anger and disbelief from the warlords, the booming voice of Talpa ordering them to find "him"-- 'Me,' Nohano realized dazedly, he understood that he had not yet summoned Inferno. 'They're not all here!' Comprehension suddenly dawned. He didn't need to don the Inferno to free them—he would free them by drawing them _into_ the Inferno!

Nohano turned his awareness fiercely towards Killian, seeking the boy's familiar mind, trying to capture how it had felt to be comforted, or harassed, or grinned at by his best friend, his brother. He summoned images of water, not terrifying, smothering water, but the warm comfort that Killian bore. Something blocked him, but he knew, he suddenly _knew_ with absolute conviction that no Nether Spirit could hold up to the power of all of them, not with virtue, with _jin_ focusing it all.

Nohano laughed aloud as the barrier suddenly broke, and aqua blue, watery energy flooded his mind, its soothing waters joining the growing firestorm. Demetrius and Tarun were next, adding the stolidity of the wide earth and the bright joy and energy of daybreak—and then it happened.

A mighty surge of power exploded behind Nohano's eyes, and he felt suddenly bigger, taller, more powerful, trembling with energy. White light shone around him, and he didn't even think. He worked on instinct, guided perhaps by the armor itself, or perhaps so entrenched in its spirit that there was no difference between him and the Inferno.

The shadows of the worried warlords passed him, and he let them go. He wanted Talpa.

Nohano ran, ignoring the startled cries of Tai Shuang and one of the others whose name he didn't know. The Wildfire he normally felt, the flames his fury translated into and the warmth he gained his comfort and strength from were nothing compared to the white-hot, raging energy of Inferno. He felt like nothing could stop him.

He burst through the doors, stopping short as Talpa stepped before him, and Nohano found he had room for a little fear, after all. He caught sight of four colored spheres of light surrounding his friends within, with three more off to the side, where Killian, Demetrius, and Tarun stood. But Talpa was clad in iron-gray armor, his red, hollow mask a horrifying representation of his spirit. Talpa growled low in his throat at Nohano, who drew the shimmering katana from his back. Talpa's rage was as great as his fortress, but there was something else, too. A yearning, greedy emotion that Nohano could feel pulsing beneath the rage. Talpa wanted this Inferno power for himself—wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

"Over my dead body," Nohano growled.

Talpa's eye sockets flashed red. "That can be arranged!"

And then he struck.

It was like nothing Nohano had ever seen, the skill, the power, and the fury that Talpa unleashed on him. The only thought that had time to occur to Nohano was that he was insanely fortunate to have gained the power of the Inferno, or he would already be dead. Only by the combined power of the Ronin was he able to keep up with the barrage of split-second-quick strikes from Talpa's weaponry.

The bright lightning of Rashida's Halo and the speed of Tarun's Daybreak gave him the speed to parry the attacks. Wildfire and Hardrock gave him the strength to keep standing, to strike back, to put his power into his own assault. Night and Twilight protected him from the full power of Talpa's magical weaponry, and Strata gave his movements grace and agility. When Talpa knocked his feet out from under him, forcing him briefly underwater, Torrent rushed through his mind to bring exhilaration and strength in place of fear. Laughter echoed in the chamber; light, grateful laughter that came from him, as he surged to his feet.

Talpa's warlords joined the fight, keeping their distance, and using their mystical powers instead. Kale's lightning slash seared Nohano's spirit, driven out by Halo, and Sekhmet's frightening snake fang strike sent venomous tendrils into his skin, cleansed by the Torrent. Dais's webs of deception were burned by Wildfire, and even the illusions he tried to cast were weak and wavery. The attacks of the lesser warlords were not nearly so powerful—but even so, they built up against Nohano.

With each strike of Talpa's blades, with each clash of their weapons, Nohano felt his exhaustion begin to bear down on him. But Talpa was weakening, too; Nohano could feel it in the diminishing of the terrifying rage he projected, in the slowing of his reflexes, and then lessening of force when his swords struck Nohano's armor, or clashed against his katana. Nohano's jubilation began to falter beneath the onslaught.

The Inferno was not invincible. Great gashes had been scored in its searing metal, and blood seeped from the injuries Nohano had taken from Talpa's blades. And worse, Nohano's friends were weakening, and he had a sudden, horrible fear that he would kill them, using their energy for too long. Was that possible? Would Ryo not have told him, if it was?

Nohano screamed as Talpa's sword cracked his helmet, scoring a deep line across his face. He cursed himself for being distracted, and swung both his katana above him, as if for his flare attack. But different words came to him then, words perhaps whispered by his armor's previous bearer. His voice sounded older, more powerful. "_Rage of Inferno!"_

The blast was not red fire, but white-hot, and when he unleashed it, the world seemed to be aflame. For a moment he felt panic, but it was clear a moment later it had only been an illusion, a simple representation of the attack, an attack that drained his energy at a frightening rate.

He didn't know what happened after that. He remembered dropping to his knees, and remembered a flash of bright, orange light surrounding him. A brief, confusing glimpse of stone and sky, before he surrendered to the blackness that flickered at the edges of his vision.

---

Once again, Sanada Ryo stood before Nohano, smiling broadly at him. It was dark around them, and Nohano wasn't sure where he was—had he died?

"You did it," said Ryo, grinning. "I told you you could."

"A-am I dead?"

Ryo chuckled. "No. You'll feel pretty wretched when you wake, but you're not dead. Neither is Talpa, unfortunately. But you knocked him down about a dozen pegs."

"What happened?"

"He teleported you all out of his palace before you could destroy it," said Ryo with a grin. "You were kicking some major butt out there. It's not easy to bear the Inferno, but you did it. Only real strength of spirit could have endured that kind of power and kept it under control."

Nohano felt his face grow hot, honored by the boy's praise, though not sure how deserving he was of it. "I just kinda worked on instinct."

"Yeah, that's how a lot of it is. With that much power you can't really stop and think much." Nohano nodded fervently. "I think you'll find his influence is gone from the city, and the people returned. I hope so, anyway. Talpa wants you out of his realm--he won't want to leave behind gateways you could come back through and finish the job."

Ryo's voice was grim, and Nohano realized after a moment why. Nohano might have defeated Talpa had he stayed, he might have sent him and his miserable warlords packing for years, maybe, like the original group of Ronins had. But Talpa had taken the coward's way out, using whatever strength he had left to get the Ronins out of his palace. "At least the people are safe," he said. "We'll be better prepared next time. I hope."

Ryo smiled, putting a hand on Nohano's shoulder. His hand was unusually warm, and Nohano suddenly laughed. Yeah—Ryo was definitely Wildfire. "You did well, my friend. And you will do well again. If you ever need my help, you know how to contact me."

Nohano nodded, feeling oddly reluctant to leave the company of this boy, feeling as though he'd grown close in a very short amount of time. "I do Ryo. And thanks."

"You'll want to go back in armor," said Ryo ruefully. "There'll be people there, and you won't want them to know who you are, walking out of the fence like that. The gate's sealed, but you should be able to go back through the fog."

So it _was_ the fence! That was a good idea. Nohano felt extremely uncomfortable with the idea that people might find out who they were!

"Goodbye for now, then, my friend," said Ryo with a grin, and the two boys clasped hands before Ryo faded away. Nohano felt a sudden emptiness at Ryo's departure, but consoled himself by remembering that he could contact him again if he needed.

And besides...he was waking up.

The first thing he saw was Killian's face, looking worried and relieved and upset, and maybe half a dozen other things at the same time. His face was wet, and Nohano judged that he'd been crying. The minute Nohano opened his eyes, Killian threw his arms around him.

Nohano groaned—he was still injured, obviously, but unwilling to move away. He wrapped his arms around Killian, closing his eyes and spending a moment in thanks for his safe return. Killian was babbling hysterically—obviously he remembered fighting Nohano, and had apparently thought for a short time that he'd been responsible for Nohano's death. He was saying "sorry" about every other word.

Finally, Nohano put his hands firmly on Killian's shoulders, pushing him away just enough that Nohano could struggle to sit up and look him in the eyes. He didn't bother with saying anything aloud. Hey. The word was simple, firm, and filled with as much affection as Nohano could cram into it. Looking utterly miserable, and crying again, Killian stopped, looking at Nohano as if Nohano might reprimand him, or worse. Stop, mate. His use of Killian's most oft-used word made Killian blink, and Nohano gave him a gentle shake. You've got nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. I know whose fault that was back there, okay? I know.

Killian didn't say anything, and Nohano could still feel the guilt coming from him, but it was lessened a great deal, and Killian managed a grateful smile. Nohano hugged his friend once more, taking a big breath and letting himself realize that they had made it.

It was only then Nohano looked around and saw that they were still in the Nether Realm, and to his amazement, exactly where they had started from—black fog and all. He looked around to see that everyone was there, and though they were bruised and bloody, no one had any life-threatening injuries. They also managed to salvage one or two of the backpacks, though they were torn and filthy.

"Rashida got the serious ones," said Suisei quietly. He had Tarun in his arms and didn't seem wont to let go any time soon. Demetrius and Rashida sat side by side, and though Demetrius's face was calm, his eyes showed he'd been through a whole lot. In fact they all looked completely wrung out.

"Let's get out of here," said Xan urgently. "That jerk isn't defeated, not by a long shot. Just...pushed back behind enemy lines. We should get while the gettin's good."

"Okay," said Nohano, very carefully getting to his feet, shaking with fatigue and feeling shell-shocked. Xan was right, they could exchange stories later! "We should armor up. We don't exactly want people knowing who we are, all coming out of one of those evil doors."

"Won't that just make anyone out there paranoid?" asked Xan. "If there even _is_ anyone out there? I mean use in armor and all?"

Nohano shrugged. "Probably," he said. "But with us comin' out of that gate--fence, we're gonna be suspicious anyway. And we won't want them knowing what we look like so easily."

The point was well taken, and everyone wearily summoned their armor. Aside from making them look less threatening, it covered the bloodstains and most of the bruises, so they looked a little less like they'd just been in a battle for their lives. Killian helped Nohano to his feet, and Nohano felt like he'd been run over with a truck, all right, just as promised. Nohano began to laugh, sounding a little hysterical, even to himself.

"You okay?" Killian asked, almost timidly.

"Just glad to be alive," said Nohano truthfully. A couple of the others chuckled appreciatively, and Killian smiled again, his arm around Nohano. 'We look like the walking dead,' thought Nohano ruefully. He watched Demetrius and Rashida contemplate the fog, then shrug and look back to the others.

"Together, I think," said Suisei, standing up and keeping Tarun close by his side.

Nohano nodded, and they all stepped forward into a tight group—and stepped into the fog.

Nohano half expected to be attacked by the strange shadow-beast things that had so hindered their way in, but they weren't; in fact he could see no sign of them whatsoever. 'Talpa really wants us out,' he thought in amazement, astonishment sending a chill over his entire body. 'He fears us--we really showed him we're something to reckon with!'

The first thing Nohano was hit with when stepping out of the fog was hot, bright sun. A quick look behind told him the fog had disappeared less than a second after they'd left it. Nohano looked up, overjoyed at the clear, blue sky, and couldn't help but laugh.

But he didn't laugh long.

The people were back, that much was clear, looking dazed and confused, but unharmed. The buildings were still destroyed, but what caught Nohano's attention was the Anti-Terrorist Squad a few meters away, quite alarmed at the group's sudden appearance. As the fog dissipated rapidly behind the group, the A-T fighters surrounded them, their weapons leveled. 'Oh, God,' Nohano thought. 'How to get out of this without hurting them...or us?'


	40. Washington, D C

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 40: Washington, D. C.**

"Freeze!" one of the men called, raising his weapon to eye level.

Nohano took a very slow breath and stood very still. It would be a cruel joke indeed if he were to survive a battle with an insanely powerful demon, only to be killed by some trigger-happy A-T officer. Go ahead and do what they ask, Nohano said, unless they ask you to remove your armor or helmets.

This is just great, snarled Xander, obviously out of patience for the day. Don't these jerks realize we just saved their skins?

It'll be all right, said Killian, and Nohano was relieved to feel the familiar comfort and calm of Killian's waters through the link. Nohano's right—we'll need to cooperate with these guys until they decide we're not the ones who did all this.

Which might prove to be more difficult than it sounded.

The A-T Squad did not seem to know how to proceed from there, obviously surprised by the Ronin Warriors' cooperation. Several of the dazed-looking citizens had gathered close, kept from interfering by a few members of the A-T Squad, and Nohano saw a hover-cam from one of the local news stations drifting above the scene, recording every detail. "We're not here to hurt anyone," said Nohano finally, making a couple of the squad members jump nervously. He winced, tensing, but no one opened fire. 'Damn it, I don't need this right now!' The only thing he wanted to do was to sleep—he had never been so exhausted in his life—and these paranoid twits were pointing guns at him!

"Remove your helmet!" called the man who had spoken first. "Slowly!"

Nohano sighed, carefully shaking his head. "I can't. We would put ourselves in danger to reveal our identities." He nodded to Tarun, who was trying very hard to look brave. "Especially with the child with us."

He saw the man frown behind his bullet-proof face mask, and realized the man was in riot gear. 'Riot gear,' Nohano thought, resisting an insane urge to laugh. And what were the police and A-T Squads but civilian versions of Ronin Warriors? "Very well," the man said finally. "But remove your weapons, slowly, and lay them on the ground in front of you. If any of you try to use them, we will open fire!"

They were scared, Nohano realized. And he guessed he really couldn't blame them. He sent a sort of mental nod towards the others, then very slowly removed his katana from their sheaths. How bizarre they must all look in archaic armor, standing in the middle of the ruined San Francisco street. He lay the katana down on the ground, watching the others all putting their weapons down. Xan said he hadn't any weapon, turning around slowly to show he spoke the truth.

The Squad seemed to relax a good deal once the group had stepped away from their weapons, but Nohano was still trying to figure out a way out of the situation. His dilemma was solved not a minute after he'd lain down his swords. A woman in the Squad gear came up to them then, a c-phone in her hand. "It's the chief," she said to the man who'd addressed Nohano's group. "The _high_ chief. He says the president herself orders we are to bring this group to see her, and they be allowed to bring anything they carry on them."

"Including their weapons?" the man asked, sounding shocked.

"Yep. Anything they've got with them."

Nohano blinked, staring at the woman in bald disbelief, and felt the astonishment from the rest of the group as well. Of all the things that could have happened then, half-formed fears of being locked in a jail cell or charged with treason, or a dozen other fates—this was the last thing he would have expected.

What in Hell? said Suisei, dumbfounded. Have you ever heard of anyone being allowed to meet the president with weapons?

Er, no, said Nohano. I never thought I'd meet the president, period, actually.

The man who'd addressed the group seemed just as dumbfounded, and he signaled the rest of the squad, all of whom lowered their weapons. Nohano didn't know about anyone else, but he breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Um, okay," said the man. "Well—go ahead and grab your, uh, weapons, then. If you're willing, Ms. President wishes to speak with you."

Things got very weird after that. The Ronin retrieved their weapons (the A-T squad looked very uneasy about it) and held a brief, whispered conference. They all agreed they should speak with the president, in fact were eager to do so, but Rashida said it would be far easier on them to do it after they'd had a full night's rest.

Nohano wanted badly to agree, but he didn't feel quite right telling the President of the United States that she had to wait their convenience. "Look. Let's...let's meet with her now," said Nohano. "It certainly doesn't sound as if she wants to throw us in jail or anything. It'd probably benefit us if we made a good impression."

No one could argue that, and Nohano turned, telling the A-T Squad that they would go with them to meet her.

"How will we go there?" asked Rashida.

The woman who'd brought the message smiled a little. It was clear she was wary of them, but at least she was trying to be pleasant. "We have arranged transportation—it won't take long."

Fifteen minutes later, Nohano and his group were sitting in a private sonic-jet, still in full armor, and accompanied by several members of the A-T squad. The jet, a small model usually used for high ranking politicians, had landed right in the street, causing a stir among the shell-shocked citizens. Nohano had never been in a plane before, and not even his exhaustion could distract him from the disconcerting take-off and the fantastic view below..

'Just when I figured my life could not get any weirder,' thought Nohano, a can of Mountain Dew Ultra in his hand, flying over the country in the high-tech jet. His friends were all quiet, either enjoying the novelty, resting after their battles, or too astonished to say anything. Suisei predictably was enjoying the flight and no doubt wishing he were the one flying the plane. Tarun had fallen asleep, for which Nohano was secretly glad. For one, Tarun needed the rest, and for two, he was impossible to keep occupied on long trips.

He turned to Killian, who sat beside him, looking distinctly discontent. These bloody seats aren't comfortable, he grouched, shifting awkwardly in the plush seat.

Nohano laughed softly; Killian was right. The airplane seats were as nice as they came, but in full armor, with odd bits of metal sticking out here and there, they were not very comfortable at all. Demetrius had removed his weapon and set it on the floor beside his seat, as had Rashida and Killian. Nohano's katana were just short enough to be kept where they were, but the front and back pieces of his armor were awkward.

What do you think the president wants? asked Killian, sounding anxious.

Nothing bad, I'm sure, answered Rashida. Else she would never allow us audience armed.

Rashida had a very good point, and Nohano relaxed a little bit at the realization. Whatever happened, it would be good, or at least it wouldn't be harmful to them. As the plane approached the East Coast, Nohano felt some of his fatigue give way to nervousness and excitement.

His stomach lurched as the jet began to descend, and his ears popped from the odd change in pressure. The White House lay below, looking the way it had for the past one-hundred years. Little had changed about the building since the turn of the twenty-first century, except for the high-tech security he knew surrounded it.

"It's weird, being back here," said Xan, gazing morosely out the window, and Nohano remembered that he was from Washington, D. C.. "Wonder if my parents ever finalized their divorce."

Nohano felt a sudden surge of sympathy for Xan—he had to be missing his parents terribly, and now that the horror of the Dynasty was past, at least for now, it was easy to think of mundane things. Nohano wondered suddenly if, now that it was over for a while, the others would want to return to their homes. He hoped that wasn't so, though he'd not try to keep anyone. It wasn't right to expect them to give up their lives—but that did not stop him hoping.

When the plane touched down on a private runway not far from the White House, his mind was very suddenly back on their current adventure. He was tired to his bones, and still half-injured, and here he was, about to meet the president.

Yeah, it's mad, agreed Killian, obviously having caught some of Nohano's thoughts. Completely, er, bug-nuts. Nohano laughed.

The head of the A-T Squad stood up as the plane came to a stop, looking at Nohano and his group. "We've arrived," he said courteously. "If you'll follow me, you'll be escorted into the White House. We will be joined by several Secret Service agents for your safety and the safety or Ms. President." He chuckled suddenly, looking over the youths' armor, and added, "Not that you need much protection, I would guess."

A nervous laugh ran through the group, and Nohano stood, wincing as he very carefully stretched. He was certain he had a nice set of bruised ribs from Talpa's furious, whirlwind assault. He definitely didn't want to fight that jerk again any time soon!

The transport that took them to the White House was a black, bulletproof van with comfortable seats and room for a dozen extra people, and most of the extra seats were taken by the A-T and Secret Service agents. Nohano's friends were quiet, though Tarun was now wide awake and fidgeting as always. Luckily, the trip was brief, and they were soon being met at the entrance of the White House itself.

Nohano looked up at the building in awe. He would have thought that after spending his whole life around skyscrapers, and after seeing the massive, imposing hulk of Talpa's palace, that the White House would not be of much interest to him. But it was. The White House, unlike those other buildings, meant something to him. It was a part of his own homeland's history. Nohano grinned.

The woman who met them was a Secret Service agent named Coreen Banks, a woman who was all business, giving her a rather unfriendly appearance. "I have been asked to take you up to the Oval Office," she told the group, nodding politely to them. "If you'll follow me, please?"

"Okay," said Nohano, not sure if he was supposed to reply or not. He felt distinctly out of place here, his bright armor clashing badly with the subdued decor of the building. He almost felt like an anachronism, surrounded by modern technology, and clad in ancient, mystical armor. 'Oh boy,' he thought. 'It just gets weirder and weirder.'

And the surprises were not over yet. The Ronin followed Coreen Banks down several hallways, until they approached an ornate set of double doors that for a very brief moment reminded Nohano of Talpa's palace. The agent opened the door to admit them all, and nervously, Nohano stepped in.

---

The Oval Office was exactly as it looked on the television. There was a big, polished desk, several potted plants, some big, fancy (bulletproof, no doubt) windows, and some shelves and curio cabinets. A second door led off somewhere else, though it was closed, so Nohano had no idea where it went. An American flag and the flag of the District of Columbia hung from their poles behind the desk.

The president, Rhyann Cavanaugh, stood at one end of the desk, in front of two people in black suits—Secret Service. She was a rather short woman, with blond hair and brown eyes, clad in a pair of dress pants and a blazer. But what astonished Nohano was not the sight of the president, nor the resplendent Oval Office. It was the Japanese man standing on the president's right-hand side. Nohano had never met the man in person, but had dreamed of him, and heard his voice. Nohano could not help but gape.

Tarun stepped into the office then, the others close behind him, and froze on seeing the man. "Yasuo!" he cried, laughing and running to the man.

Yasou smiled and bent down to hug the boy, maneuvering around the Daybreak armor in order to embrace him. "I said we would meet again, little one," he said, straightening up and looking down on the boy with pride.

"I'm glad you were right!" Demetrius, Suisei, and Amaya, who had also had met the man, looked at him with expressions varying from shy to fond.

Nohano suddenly looked back to the president, who looked faintly amused, and felt himself blush deeply. What a miserable first impression he had to be making with his gaping and his silence, and he their leader! He paused for a moment, then took off his helmet. Here, he felt he was safe in doing so. He caught Yasuo's nod of approval as Nohano stepped forward, extending a hand to the president, first making sure his armor was not too hot to touch. "Sorry, ma'am," he said. "Guess that was pretty rude of me. I'm kinda out of my element here."

The woman smiled, taking Nohano's hand and giving it a firm, friendly shake. "That's all right, Mr. Nohano." Nohano blinked, wondering how she knew his name, wondering how much she had been told about them.

Go ahead and armor down if you want, Nohano said to the others, suiting word to deed. He banished his main armor, but decided to leave the riot gear on. He felt far safer in it, and though he knew this was a safe environment, he wasn't quite up to leaving himself that vulnerable just yet. The others obviously felt the same way, for soon the entire group was clad similarly.

"Please, have a seat," invited the president, gesturing to several fancy chairs along one wall of the office.

Nohano nodded and walked over to one, trying not to get smudge marks on it. His riot gear was filthy, and still full of soot from the burned out tree he had nestled in for warmth. All in all he was not very presentable. None of them were.

"I expect you are wondering why I wanted to meet you all. Mr. Nohano—you lead this group, correct?"

Taken by surprise, Nohano blinked, looking briefly at his friends, before nodding his head in answer. Y-yes, ma'am." Killian grasped his left arm, and Nohano shot him a grateful look. He was more nervous than he'd expected to be!

"I have, of course, been advised since the beginning of the things that have happened in San Francisco, though at first I had thought it was a terrorist attack. That is, of course, what the newspeople have been told." Nohano nodded, remembering the similar news reports from the Irwindale Faire. "But as the reports began to spread from the United States to other countries, I received a very interesting phone call from Mr. Toshitada here." She indicated Yasuo before continuing. "At first I was disinclined to believe him—his story was quite fantastic, and I simply got his contact information and sent some of my agents to investigate him. But the next call I received was from Keiji Ijiri, Japan's Prime Minister. He presented me with news clippings and ancient news tapes, from the end of the twentieth century. As you may know, this has happened once before, in Toyama, Japan."

"We did know," said Amaya quietly, her tone astonished. "But we didn't think that anyone else would possibly remember."

The president chuckled. "Coincidentally, Mr. Ijiri was alive during those horrible attacks, a child of only five. He remembered them, and had kept careful records of what happened as he grew into adulthood. When he gained the position of Prime Minister, he had a file opened within his government for the Dynasty. He was able to provide all the information I could possibly want about them. And when I contacted Mr. Toshitada, he was able to provide yet more."

Yasuo spoke up then. "When I could not locate you," he said, "I concluded you must have gone after Talpa. I met with the president and gave her all the information I could, telling her what would happen when you succeeded, and what to look out for." Nohano noticed he had said "when" you succeeded, not "if", and smiled at the show of confidence. "That is why the riot squad was so quick to notice and detain you. Especially as you were in full armor. They were told to expect a possible appearance of Talpa's warlords."

Nohano felt floored—that people other than themselves knew of this, that the Prime Minister of Japan had called on their behalf— "I-I don't really blame them," he said finally. "Besides, you know we couldn't have done it without your help, sir," he said to Yasuo. "Aside from giving half of us the armor orbs, you gave us information we needed."

Yasuo smiled in appreciation of the acknowledgement, bowing briefly to Nohano. "Thank you," he said. "It was an honor to fulfill my destiny in creating the armor, and locating the Ronin."

"Was it you who sent our armor to Rashida and me?"

"To Rashida, yes," said Yasuo. "But it was Amaya's grandmother who sent you yours."

Nohano blinked as Amaya made a sound of astonishment. "She never told me!" she exclaimed indignantly.

Yasuo smiled. "No, child. She did not. She did not know, then, that you were to be a Ronin. Only that Nohano here was to be Wildfire. I imagine she had dreams of her own."

"Crikey," said Killian softly, and Nohano knew what he meant. It really was too much to take in!

"And so," said the president briskly, standing up from her chair. Nohano stood up too, though the fatigue from the battle almost did not allow him to. "To the point. I would like you all to stay here at the White House for tonight. As Yasuo has told me, you've likely been through a lot tonight, and I would be honored if you would accept my hospitality. There are hot showers, and a hot meal to be served. We have several medics on staff who can tend your injuries, until your healer has recuperated." She smiled at Rashida, and it was clear that the woman knew damn near as much as the Ronin themselves!

"I think that's a good idea, ma'am," said Nohano gratefully. "Thank you."

The president nodded. "You're welcome. As for those of you who do not have citizenship in this country yet, if you wish, I will see to it that you attain it. I know most of you are underage, and for those who need it, I will arrange for your emancipation as well, if you so choose."

Well—this was it. Nohano had not expected the decision to be sprung so swiftly on his friends, and he stayed silent, trying not to even think. He bit his lip, and took a couple of steps back, looking up almost timidly for his friends' answers.

"I have come here to find my path," said Rashida.

"And have I," agreed Demetrius, looking back at Nohano with a fond smile.

Nohano felt that he could nearly faint with relief as Amaya, Xan, Suisei, and Tarun also said they intended to stick with the group. Finally, Nohano turned to look at Killian, half-dreading what he might say. But when Killian put an arm around him, when he caught his friend's mental whisper, he turned and hugged the boy.

"Looks like we all stay," said Amaya.

I was afraid, said Nohano. I'd be miserable to lose anyone. He blushed as he admitted this, but no one teased him, and he understood that they felt the same. They would no more leave their family than to join up with Talpa.

"Then I will help you," said the president seriously. "I owe you all a great deal. Yasuo is of the firm opinion that unchecked, this demon would have slowly spread his control over the entire country. And from what I have seen and researched, I agree. San Francisco is free because of you, and the country safe."

Nohano felt himself blush again, especially when Xander teasingly congratulated him over the mind link.

"I will have you shown the guest rooms," said the president. "And tomorrow we can begin to put these things into motion."

Nohano shook the woman's hand once more, feeling nothing more than a desire to _sleep_. "Thank you, Ms. President," he said gratefully.

"I will be staying a little while as well," said Yasuo, "and learn of your adventures. I'm very proud of you all. I knew when I met you all, either in person or in dream, that you would well fulfill your destinies."


	41. We'll Be Ready

New Blood  
by Saber Alexander McConnell  
Rated PG13

**CHAPTER 41: We'll Be Ready**

After the meeting, The Ronin were shown to a hallway lined with doors that led into elaborate guest room suites. Each suite consisted of five bedrooms, all branching off from a central sitting room. There were bathrooms in each chamber, as well as the most comfortable bed Nohano had ever seen.

Yasuo helped the enervated youths stow what few belongings they'd managed to get back out of the Nether Realm, and assured them that the things they had left in the San Francisco shelter and what belongings that could be salvaged from their apartments would also be shipped there. "Go ahead and bathe, if that's what you would like," said Yasuo. "We are as safe here as we can be. The medic will visit you here, so you won't need to worry about a change of clothing just now. There are robes and pajamas in the bureaus, as well."

Nohano thought that was the best idea he'd heard in a long time. A few of them had to take turns, as there were only five bathrooms, and no one wanted to separate in order to make use of any others. Nohano was very careful as he scrubbed his bloodstained, dirt-streaked body clean. His remaining wounds were not severe, but they still hurt like hell, and even bled a little as he washed.

Feeling slightly more energetic after his shower, Nohano located the robe and wrapped it around himself, waiting in the sitting room for the others to finish.

A medic was brought in to tend the group, seeming a little taken aback by their strangeness, but obviously knowing better than to ask questions. The group was served a dinner in a sort of sitting room that sat in the middle of their connected sleeping quarters, and Nohano though he'd never had anything that tasted so good. After a week of travel rations, then the huge battle, he was hungry enough to eat the whole kitchen.

And then they were alone, able at last to exchange stories.

The eight Ronin and Yasuo all sat in the sitting room, relaxing on chairs and sofas, enjoying the warmth of an artificial fireplace. (Nohano had a comment or two to make about fake fire.) Nohano's arm was around Killian, who sort of curled up beside him, and Xander slumped back against the couch on Killian's other side. Suisei sat in a plush armchair with a very sleepy Tarun on his lap. Demetrius, Amaya, and Rashida all shared a small couch, not minding at all that they had to sit sort of squished together. Everyone was taking comfort in being together.

Yasuo sat in a straight-backed chair, sort of looking over the lot of them, his expression both fond and proud.

Nohano began first, telling of his battle with Kale and then Dais, of how he had driven them off, and how Dais had gotten hit by his own comrade's attack. (There were several grim cheers at this.) He told them how he'd collapsed, only to wake at the shelter. Suisei described his battle with Venom at the bottom of San Francisco Bay, and Demetrius told of his frightening trip into orbit. (Suisei exclaimed enviously that he would have gladly traded places with him.). Xan and Rashida told of their battles, and of how Amaya had gone after them, discovering her armor's power.

"That's great!" Tarun exclaimed, stifling a yawn. "Teleporting—that's cool!"

Amaya smiled. "I thought so. I was certainly glad when I was able to find Nohano. I don't know what I would have done if he'd died." Nohano smiled at her, pleased she had said so. He wondered if she would have felt the same that spring, when they really didn't like each other much. Would Nohano have felt that way then? It wasn't a question he could answer.

He turned his attention to Killian as he began to tell his story, and all trace of good humor was gone from Nohano's mind.

He had not thought he could possibly feel angrier than he had felt while fighting Talpa and his warlords, but he managed it. He listened to Killian talk, heard the slight tremor in his voice, felt the despair and horror through the mind link as he struggled through the desert, only confronted by the enemy when he'd been there a whole day without water. He put his arm around Killian and held him as he talked of being forced to watch his friends being hurt.

He began to shake as Tarun told what had happened to him, his voice small and almost timid; he clenched his fists in fury as Demetrius described the venom Sekhmet had subjected him to. Nohano wished more than ever that he could kill the beast, the heartless wretch who could commit the atrocities he had, and ordered his warlords to do the same. And the next time he got his hands on Sekhmet or Jin Tanaka—he felt a sudden, furious indignation that her name was the same as his virtue.

Amaya told the others of how they had found their way into the Nether Realm, and the irritations they'd dealt with on the way; the earthquake, the landslides, the Dynasty soldiers and their battles with Kale and the others. Nohano told of his adventures beneath Talpa's palace, and smiled gratefully when Killian expressed his sincere pride at Nohano handling the water.

"I can't say I handled it too well," admitted Nohano. "I was screaming like a baby."

"Maybe," said Killian. "But you handled it."

And then he told the others of the Inferno armor—and of how he had learned how to use it. "I dunno exactly what it was," he said. "Somehow, Ryo—that's what he said to call him—was able to help me. I talked to him, even saw him."

Amaya gasped, sitting straight up, disturbing Rashida, who'd been using her as a pillow. "You _spoke_ to him?"

Smiling at the memory, Nohano nodded. "Yes," he said. "He said our armors have the ability to speak with the people who last bore it—he said the others were talking to you guys."

"Is _that _who that was!" Suisei exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement. "I wasn't exactly thinking the straightest then, I guess. But he was telling me how to help with the Inferno armor." He laughed suddenly, shaking his head. "He was Rowen—he had blue hair. That was interesting."

Blue hair! Now that was interesting. And people thought Nohano's group looked odd! Rashida said that her predecessor had also spoken to her, and that she had felt the connection he had with her armor.

"I saw something," said Demetrius, frowning. "But I—the—the Nether Spirit still had me. I could not see."

"Me too," said Killian, his tone quiet and awestruck. "I could feel his presence, though--"

Amaya bit her lip, looking very upset, and Nohano frowned in confusion.

"What's wrong?" asked Suisei softly.

Color tinged Amaya's dark cheeks, and she did not answer for a moment. Finally she made her self admit, "I...envy a little. I have always wanted to meet my honored ancestor."

Nohano felt sudden sympathy for her; he knew how he would feel if someone else was able to talk to his own ancestor, but he was not! In fact he noticed Xander and Tarun seemed a little left out as well. He wondered if their armor, as well, could connect with someone. It seemed odd for them to be without guidance. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Perhaps it is time for me to tell a story or two."

Nohano blinked, slightly startled by the quiet statement from Yasuo—he had almost forgotten the man was there. Yasuo's serene voice held power, easily capturing the attention of everyone in the room. Killian curled back up at Nohano's side, and Xander moved one of the couch cushions onto Killian, leaning against it despite Killian's mild protest. Amaya's group settled back onto their sofa, and Tarun sat still—storytelling was about the only thing that could do that.

No one was very surprised when Yasuo's tale began with a dream—a dream about his own ancestor, a man who had been born more than five-hundred years before. "His name was Shuten," said Yasuo. "A strange man in Japan, his long, red hair a great rarity. But he was a powerful warrior. I imagine that is why Talpa wanted him. He managed to sway Shuten into his service, where he became the Warlord of Cruelty...the title Jin Tanaka now holds."

Gasps and exclamations of astonishment came from the Ronin, and Tarun made a noise that seemed to be part fear and part anger. He certainly had reason to loathe Jin Tanaka, and presumably the man who had embraced the same Cruelty.

"Yes," said Yasuo, his tone low, intense. "Yes, my ancestor was swayed by Talpa's words, his promises of power. Many decades later, he fought the five youths who held the original Ronin armors. He was injured in his fights, saved by the Ancient One, a powerful member of a clan of mystics. He managed to turn Shuten's loyalty, to make him realize Talpa was using him, to help him realize his true potential, and the heart that was at his core. Shuten was not an evil man, nor was he a stupid man. He understood the lessons taught, and rued his past cruelties. He was killed fighting Talpa's minions."

'Weird,' Nohano thought in amazement. It was almost disconcerting to think of warlords other than those he had fought. Could any of them ever turn to the side of good? Anubis must have been just as evil—his affiliation was cruelty, after all—and he had turned. It was almost impossible to fathom.

Yasuo's tale cleared up a few things Nohano had wondered about, though. Yasuo had dreamt Shuten, who lived now in the Spirit Realm, and Shuten had told Yasuo of his destiny. He was to gather a new group of Ronin, as Sanada Ryo's Ronin Warriors had since died—the last one only five years previous. He was to ensure that those who would bear the original armor found them, and moreover, he was to create three new sets.

"Shuten knew that Talpa was recruiting," said Yasuo. "And he knew we would need more than five warriors. And so I created the three new armors." Yasuo chuckled. "You've done wonderfully, finding out all that you know—you not only met, but exceeded my expectations. And there is yet more to discover. Each discovery you make strengthens your bond with your armor. You three--" He looked now to Tarun, Xan, and Amaya, "—your armor had no previous bearer. But you may yet discover a similar gift as Nohano experienced when he learned how to contact your great grandfather, Amaya. But you must discover it for yourselves."

Amaya sat back, looking a little troubled, and Xan grumbled good-naturedly about evil enigmas. But Tarun asked a question. "What's the names of the armors in Japanese? We just know Nohano's and Rashida and Demetrius's, too."

Yasuo smiled. "That I can tell you. Demetrius and Rashida have already discovered theirs—_kongou_ and _kourin_—diamond and halo. Wildfire is _rekka_. The Torrent armor is called _suiko_, and the Strata armor is _tenku_."

"And ours?" asked Xander curiously.

"Twilight is _hakumei_, and Daybreak is _zenjitsu,_ which means 'all days'." Tarun laughed delightedly at the name. "Night is _shinkou_--" Amaya's expression lit in recognition, as Yasuo finished, "which means 'dead of night', but can also mean fellowship—the virtue of her armor."

Suddenly Nohano yawned, covering his mouth with his hand, a little embarrassed at his rudeness. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought."

Yasuo smiled in a surprisingly fatherly way. "You are all weary. You should rest, soon."

"What happened to the armor that Shuten guy wore, anyway?" asked Xan. "His is the only one not really accounted for."

Nohano looked at Yasuo also, very interested in the answer. Who could bear the armor of an evil warlord, except the warlord himself? He had never thought, all that time, that one armor was missing. It was always the nine original armors—the first five Ronin armors, and the warlord armors. But there were only three of the first warlords. That made eight, not nine.

His expression was thoughtful and grave, Yasuo regarded the group for nearly a full minute before speaking, seeming to be wrestling with some kind of decision. "The Cruelty armor, no longer corrupted, has become the armor of Loyalty," he finally said. "It is in my possession. It is safe. I can let Talpa possess it no more than you all can allow him to possess yours--they are his keys to invincibility."

Nohano didn't know about anyone else, but he felt like his jaw dropped down onto the floor. "Does that mean you're a Ronin, too?" he asked.

"In a way. My armor aligns differently than yours—if the other warlords were to walk the path of wisdom, our four armors would be as one—they align with the seasons, and it is from them the power comes. As the armors are linked, we are all Ronin in a way. But they have chosen a different path, becoming Talpa's warlords."

"My head hurts," said Xander with a sigh, slumping back in the couch.

Nohano knew how he felt; his own head was beginning to pound, though he suspected it was fatigue more than confusion.

"You are weary," said Yasuo gently, standing up. "We will have time to talk later. For now, sleep, and recover from your battles. You have done well, my young ones. I'm proud of you." Yasuo favored him with his serene smile before opening the door, stepping out of the room and leaving the Ronin to themselves.

No one had much energy left for discussion. Deciding they did not want to be separated for that night, the eight of them dragged the bedding in from the rooms, camping out in the sitting room itself. They turned off the electric fire, and Nohano joined Killian on the floor in front of the fireplace. The rest lay on the sofas or the floor, and Suisei reached up to turn out the lights.

'Talpa's gonna come back,' Nohano thought grimly as he lay down on the still-warm hearth next to the breathing bundle that was Killian. 'He's not going to take this one lying down.' His desire to control the mortal realm would be as great as ever, and he would want revenge for his defeat. But Nohano felt the Ronin would be more prepared when that happened 'Bring it on, Talpa,' he thought as he closed his eyes. 'We'll be ready for you.'


End file.
